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American  jtten  of  Letters 


JOHN  GKEENLEAF  WHITTIEE 

BY 

GEORGE  RICE   CARPENTER 


American  &£en  of  Hetterg 


JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 


GEORGE  RICE  CARPENTER 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
<&be  ftiters'i&e  press,  Cambri&0e 

1903 


COPYRIGHT,    1903,    BY    GEORGE    RICE    CARPENTER 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


Published  October,  1903 


HENRY  MQRSE 


Dille :  Madonna,  lo  suo  core  e  stato 
Con  si  fermata  fede, 
CV  a  voi  servir  lo  pronta  ogni  pensiero : 
Tostofu  vostro,  e  mai  non  s'  e  smagato.' 


510067 


PREFACE 

THE  printed  sources  for  the  life  of  Whittier  are 
the  volumes  of  William  S.  Kennedy  (1881  and 
1892)  ;  of  Francis  H.  Underwood  (1883),  writ 
ten  with  Whittier's  consent  and  in  part  with  his 
help ;  the  authorized  biography  by  Samuel  T. 
Pickard  (1894),  which  contains  virtually  all  the 
matter  included  in  the  earlier  volumes  as  well  as 
much  fresh  material;  and  the  little  books  of 
reminiscences  by  Mrs.  Mary  B.  Claflin  (1893) 
and  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields  (1893).  I  am  deeply 
indebted  to  all  these  sources ;  to  the  admirable 
biography  of  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  prepared 
by  his  children ;  to  Mr.  Pickard,  who  kindly  al 
lowed  me  to  examine  his  collection  of  such  of 
Whittier's  early  verses  as  have  not  been  repub- 
lished ;  to  Whittier's  cousins,  the  Misses  John 
son  and  Mrs.  Woodman,  who  furnished  me  with 
much  new  material;  to  Mr.  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  who  sent  me  copies  of  Whittier's  let 
ters  to  John  Quincy  Adams  ;  to  Mr.  William  H. 
Hayne,  who  sent  me  copies  of  Whittier's  letters 
to  his  father,  Paul  Hamilton  Hayne ;  to  Judge 


viii  PREFACE 

Cowley,  of  Lowell,  Mass.,  who  found  for  me  the 
unique  file  of  the  "  Middlesex  Standard ; "  and 
to  many  other  kind  friends  and  correspondents 
who  have  patiently  borne  my  many  questionings. 
From  the  mass  of  new  and  old  material  I  have 
done  my  best  to  reconstruct  the  essential  Whit- 
tier  —  the  heritage,  the  environment,  the  tem 
perament,  the  motives  that  constituted  him  and 
none  other ;  and  I  think  I  have  been  at  least  suc 
cessful  in  determining,  to  an  extent  not  before 
attained,  the  course  of  evolution  of  his  literary 
art.  If  I  am  wrong  in  any  of  my  generaliza 
tions,  the  fault  will,  I  hope,  be  in  some  measure 
due  to  the  comparative  incompleteness  of  the 
material.  Whittier  was  modest  and  reticent,  car 
rying  these  virtues  almost  to  an  extreme ;  but  it 
would  be  strange  if  there  did  not  somewhere 
exist  very  considerable  bodies  of  letters  and 
reminiscences  that  would  aid  us  in  tracing  fur 
ther  the  development  of  his  genius.  On  whoever 
holds  any  such  precious  and  perishable  material, 
whether  in  the  form  of  written  documents,  of 
direct  memories,  or  of  oral  tradition,  I  beg  to 
urge  the  imperative  duty  of  having  it  at  once 
examined,  and  of  taking  proper  measures  to 
secure  its  use  and  preservation. 

G.  R.  C. 

September,  1903. 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAQB 

I.   BOYHOOD,  1807-1828 1 

II.   BOYHOOD,  1821-1828 25 

III.  THE    YOUNG    JOURNALIST   AND  POLITICIAN, 

1829-1832 53 

IV.  THE  YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST,  1833-1840        .      103 
V.   REFORMER   AND  MAN  or  LETTERS,  1840- 

1860 174 

VI.   POET,  1860-1892 255 

APPENDIX 

I.   WHITTIER'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  LETTER        .  297 
II.   LIST  OF  WHITTIER'S  WRITINGS  .        .        .      304 

INDEX  .  309 


The  portrait  which  forms  the  frontispiece  to  this  volume  is 
from  an  ambrotype  taken  about  1857,  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Samuel  T.  Pickard. 


JOHN  GREENLEAE  W  HITHER 


CHAPTER  I 

BOYHOOD 

1807-1828 

JOHN  GKEENLEAF  WHITTIEK,  journalist,  poli 
tician,  reformer,  and  poet,  was  born  December  17, 
1807,  in  the  east  parish  of  Haverhill,  in  Essex 
County,  Massachusetts.  In  the  early  nineteenth 
century,  New  England,  that  part  of  the  land  in 
which  intellectual  and  spiritual  life  among  the 
common  people  had  been  most  continuous  and 
vigorous,  was  thoroughly  fertilized,  as  it  were,  by 
generations  of  mental  activity,  and  was  ready  to 
bear  the  natural  fruit  of  the  vitalized  soil, — 
the  man  of  letters,  the  man  who  fashions,  in  vis 
ible  speech  and  in  the  mysterious  forms  of  the 
imagination,  the  latent  ideals  and  aspirations  of 
his  dumb  fellows.  And  men  of  letters  sprang 
up  in  abundance,  great  and  small,  in  all  the  ter 
ritory  of  these  ancient  colonies,  and  especially 
in  the  eldest,  Massachusetts,  from  the  almost 
solitary  Bryant  at  the  western  border  to  the 


2          ;  JV&N  'GRE&frfrEAF  WHITTIER 


larger  company  of  the  older  eastern  counties. 
Of  these  eastern  counties  none  was  more  fer 
tile  in  this  rare  but  inevitable  human  product 
than  Essex,  where  Whittier  and  Hawthorne  were 
born  and  lived. 

The  members  of  this  New  England  band  were 
variously  endowed,  and  were  in  many  fashions 
typical  of  the  thought  and  life  of  their  kin,  of 
their  neighbors,  of  their  native  towns,  counties, 
and  states,  and  to  some  extent  of  the  country 
at  large.  Of  them  all  Whittier  was  the  most 
widely  and  profoundly  and  permanently  repre 
sentative  of  the  common  people  of  his  locality. 
His  family  had  lived  in  that  county  since  1638, 
on  that  farm  since  1647,  in  that  house  since 
1688,  and  only  a  few  years  of  his  long  life  were 
spent  outside  of  that  district.  No  essential  con 
stituent  of  his  physical  or  intellectual  nature 
separated  him  from  the  great  mass  of  his  fel 
lows.  In  his  boyhood  he  toiled  with  his  hands, 
he  read  by  the  fireside,  he  drew  his  slender 
formal  education  from  the  district  school  and  the 
town  academy.  His  habits,  his  circumstances, 
and  all  his  interests  bound  him  to  the  land  and 
the  life  of  the  people.  Bryant  early  withdrew 
himself  from  his  simple  native  surroundings  to 
the  complex  environment  of  a  large  mercantile 
city.  Emerson  came  of  a  long  line  of  men  spe 
cially  educated  and  set  apart  for  a  learned  pro- 


BOYHOOD 

fession :  it  was  natural  that  he  should  be  a  pio 
neer  in  thought,  the  prophet  who  led  the  people 
from  afar.  Longfellow  and  Lowell  were  men 
of  a  college  community,  fed  on  the  new  learning 
of  Europe ;  Holmes  was  a  man  of  a  special  city 
and  a  special  caste, —  circumstances  which  largely 
isolated  and  localized  his  sympathies  and  his 
tastes ;  Hawthorne,  though  he  was  born  of  an 
old,  permanently  localized  stock,  and  lived  in  a 
small  city,  was  so  widely  different  from  his  fel 
lows,  so  distinctly  solitary,  as  not  to  be  imme 
diately  representative  of  them.  Whittier  alone 
was  country  born  and  country  bred,  a  country 
man  in  education  and  sympathies :  a  Haverhill 
boy,  an  Amesbury  man,  he  never  broke  the 
slightest  of  the  ties  that  bound  him  to  his  family 
and  his  neighbors.  His  power  of  expression 
was  his  own,  but  his  life  and  his  thoughts  were 
as  theirs,  and  he  thus  became  directly  typical  of 
his  town  and  his  district,  and  indirectly  typical 
of  all  the  country  folk  of  his  race  and  his  nation 
who  lived  the  same  simple  life,  based  on  the  old 
polity  of  the  Puritan  community.  In  the  bio 
graphy  of  such  a  man,  unique  among  the  greater 
New  England  men  of  letters,  we  shall  not  find 
ourselves  concerned  with  any  highly  specialized 
social  or  professional  group  of  American  writers, 
or  with  native  intelligence  as  modified  by  for 
eign  travel  and  by  the  influence  of  European 


4  JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHIT  TIER 

philosophy  or  letters,  but  rather  with  the  undi 
verted  development  of  a  peculiarly  native  writer, 
under  the  stimulus  only  of  his  natural  environ 
ment  and  of  the  great  local  or  national  forces 
to  which  he  and  the  mass  of  his  fellows  were 
subjected. 

The  tale  of  Whittier's  ancestry  is  not  long  or 
rich  in  details.  Like  Burns,  like  Carlyle,  like 
Defoe,  he  sprang  directly  from  a  long  line  of  la 
boring  men,  without  the  intermediate  generation 
or  more  of  sedentary  life  which  brought  such  dif 
ferent  influences  to  bear  on  Bryant,  Longfellow, 
and  Lowell.  The  emigrant  Whittier,  Thomas, 
was  perhaps  a  Huguenot,  though  there  is  little 
ground  for  thinking  that  his  family  was  recently 
of  French  extraction,  for  the  English  surname 
—  pronounced  Whicher,  as  is  the  name  of  a  hill 
in  Amesbury  which  lay  in  the  old  Whittier 
grant  —  may  be  traced  back  to  a  considerably 
older  period.  Thomas  was  apparently  an  ideal 
pioneer.  He  came  to  the  new  land  as  a  lad  of 
eighteen ;  he  was  of  great  size  and  power ;  he 
married  young  and  had  many  children ;  he 
played  an  honest  and  manly  part  in  those  trou 
blous  times,  when  energy  of  body  and  simplicity 
and  sincerity  of  mind  were  of  more  value  to  the 
community  than  riches  or  learning.  It  was  in 
1638  that  he  came  to  New  England,  with  his 

O 

uncles,  John  and  Henry  llolfe, —  the  latter  of 


BOYHOOD  5 

whom  willed  him  the  hive  of  bees  which  the 
early  records  carefully  specify, —  and  a  distant 
relative,  Ruth  Green,  whom  he  married  shortly 
afterward.  He  first  settled  in  Salisbury  near 
the  Powow  River,  whose  falls  were  to  turn  the 
mills  of  Amesbury,  and  was  representative  of 
that  town  in  the  General  Court.  He  soon  moved 
across  the  Merrimac  to  Newbury,  the  mother 
town  of  that  district,  and  then  in  1647  back 
again  to  the  northern  side  of  the  beautiful  river, 
this  time  to  the  young  town  of  Haverhill.  Here 
he  was  allotted  land, —  probably  containing  some 
of  the  natural  meadow  land,  precious  to  the  old 
settlers, —  on  the  road  from  Salisbury  that  he 
had  helped  to  lay  out,  and  on  the  banks  of  Coun 
try  Brook,  some  four  or  five  miles  from  the  little 
frontier  settlement,  from  which  it  was  separated 
by  a  range  of  broad-backed  hills.  He  built  him 
a  log  house,  and  threw  himself  into  the  long  task, 
not  to  be  completed  for  several  generations,  of 
clearing  the  wilderness  and  cultivating  the  rocky 
but  fertile  soil.  He  had  ten  children,  of  whom 
five  were  boys,  each  over  six  feet  in  height.  His 
name  occurs  from  time  to  time  in  the  town  re 
cords,  and  he  was  apparently  a  man  to  be  trusted 
and  depended  on.  He  was  one  of  a  committee 
to  determine  the  bounds  of  the  plantation,  and 
as  an  outlying  settler  he  helped  in  determining 
and  establishing  the  various  garrison  houses,  in 


6  JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

which  the  isolated  might  find  nightly  shelter 
when  there  was  danger  of  attack  by  Indians. 
But  it  is  related  that  he  and  his  family,  secure 
in  their  integrity,  did  not  avail  themselves  of  the 
protection  of  a  fortified  house  not  far  distant, 
and  though  often  visited  by  savages,  were  never 
harmed.1  The  only  censure  associated  with  the 
pioneer  was  one  that  now  serves  as  a  source  of 
praise.  In  1652  complaint  was  made  against 
Joseph  Peasley  and  Thomas  Macy,  of  the  part 
of  Salisbury  in  which  Whittier  had  first  settled 
and  of  which  he  was  now  not  a  distant  neighbor, 
for  exhorting  people  on  the  Sabbath  in  the  ab 
sence  of  the  minister,  and  a  law  was  passed  re 
straining  them  from  this  evil  practice.  This 
was  in  the  very  earliest  days  of  the  Quakers, 
before  their  missionaries  had  come  to  New  Eng 
land  ;  and  though  both  men  afterwards  became 
Quakers,  there  is  no  ground  for  believing  that 
there  was  then  aught  against  them  save  that  ter. 
rible  jealousy  of  the  priesthood,  unhappy  cause 
of  many  evils,  against  whatever  seemed  to  break 
down  its  privileges.  At  all  events  the  brave 
Robert  Pike,  one  of  the  noblest  men  of  the  dis 
trict,  openly  declared  the  act  to  be  one  contrary 
to  the  liberties  of  the  country,  both  civil  and 

1  The  terrible  Indian  raids  to  which  the  little  frontier  vil 
lage  was  exposed  are  well  described  by  Whittier  in  his  "  Boy 
Captives,"  Prose  Works,  ii.  395. 


BOYHOOD  1 

ecclesiastical.  He  was  therefore  disfranchised, 
disabled  from  holding  any  public  office,  bound 
to  good  behavior,  and  fined  twenty  marks.  This 
unjust  sentence  caused  a  great  sensation  in  the 
neighboring  towns,  and  many  petitions  were  sent 
to  the  General  Court  in  his  behalf,  including 
one  from  Haverhill,  signed  by  Whittier.  The 
inexorable  and  priest-ridden  lawgivers  made  some 
show  of  punishing  even  the  petitioners,  and  it  is 
said  that  Whittier  was  deprived  of  his  franchise, 
which  was  restored  only  in  1666. 

About  1688,  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight,  Thomas 
Whittier  built  himself  a  second  and  more  sub 
stantial  house,  half  a  mile  or  so  from  the  first,  and 
still  on  the  road  from  Haverhill  to  Salisbury,  in 
a  wooded  fold  of  the  hulking  hill  that  shuts  off 
that  part  of  the  town  from  Haverhill.  In  1696, 
when  the  old  man  died,  the  children  had  appar 
ently  scattered  to  homes  of  their  own,  after  the 
fashion  that  has  built  up  our  land  so  rapidly, 
save  the  youngest  son,  Joseph,  who,  following 
another  old  custom,  remained  on  the  farm.  He 
was  born  in  1669,  and  in  1694  he  had  married 
Mary  Peasley,  daughter  of  Joseph  Peasley, 
whose  fine  old  homestead,  built  of  bricks  brought 
over  from  England,  still  stands  a  few  miles 
away  by  the  riverside.  Mary's  grandfather  was 
the  unlicensed  exhorter  whose  rights  the  elder 
Whittier  had  upheld,  and  who  had  afterwards 


8  JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

become  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  The 
bitter  persecutions  of  the  Quakers  by  the  tyranni 
cal  clergy  had  by  this  time  been  stopped  by  the 
application  of  sound  English  law,  but  they  were 
still  a  people  set  apart  and  not  yet  free  from 
suspicion,  and  Joseph's  marriage  to  a  Quakeress 
is  evidence  that  he  was  sufficiently  liberal  to 
adopt  her  faith. 

The  youngest  son  of  Joseph's  nine  children, 
likewise  a  Joseph,1  was  born  in  1716,  married 
Sarah  Greenleaf  of  the  neighboring  town  of 
West  Newbury  in  1739,  and,  like  his  father  be 
fore  him,  stayed  by  the  homestead.  The  young 
est  sons  of  eleven  children  were  John  and  Moses, 
who  at  his  death  bought  the  interest  of  the  other 
heirs  in  the  estate  and  remained  on  the  farm. 
John  was  born  in  1760.  At  the  age  of  forty- 

!In  "The  Great  Ipswich  Fright"  (Prose  Works,  ii.  385) 
Whittier  gives  a  pleasant  anecdote  of  the  imperturbability  of 
this  old  Quaker. 

"All  through  that  memorable  night  the  terror  swept  onward 
towards  the  north  with  a  speed  which  seems  almost  miracu 
lous,  producing  everywhere  the  same  results.  At  midnight  a 
horseman,  clad  only  in  shirt  and  breeches,  dashed  by  our 
grandfather's  door,  in  Haverhill,  twenty  miles  up  the  river. 
*  Turn  out !  Get  a  musket !  Turn  out ! '  he  shouted  ;  '  the 
regulars  are  landing  on  Plum  Island ! '  *  I  'm  glad  of  it,'  re 
sponded  the  old  gentleman  from  his  chamber  window  ;  '  I  wish 
they  were  all  there,  and  obliged  to  stay  there.'  When  it  is 
understood  that  Plum  Island  is  little  more  than  a  naked  sand- 
ridge,  the  benevolence  of  this  wish  can  be  readily  appreci 
ated." 


BOYHOOD  9 

four  he  married  Abigail  Hussey,  twenty-one 
years  younger  than  himself.  Their  four  chil 
dren  were,  Mary,  born  in  1806  ;  John  Greenleaf, 
born  in  1807  ;  Matthew  Franklin,  born  in  1812  ; 
and  Elizabeth  Hussey,  born  in  1815. 

Such  were  the  links  of  life  that  bound  Whit- 
tier  to  the  soil, —  a  great-great-grandfather,  a 
giant  pioneer,  who  hewed  out  a  homestead  in  the 
wilderness ;  a  great-grandfather,  a  grandfather, 
and  a  father,  all  younger  sons,  who  each  married 
a  farmer's  daughter  and  kept  the  homestead  in 
his  turn.  We  know  little  of  what  they  did, 
nothing  of  what  they  said  and  thought ;  it  was  a 
silent  ancestry,  a  typical  New  England  ancestry 
of  toil  and  independence  and  content.  Indeed, 
in  the  case  of  his  immediate  parents,  the  record 
is  not  much  fuller.  His  father  had  married 
late ;  was  a  prompt,  decisive  man ;  had  in  his 
earlier  days  been  to  and  fro  between  Essex 
County  and  Canada  for  common  barter ;  was, 
like  his  forefathers,  a  trustworthy  man  and  just, 
holding  minor  town  offices  with  approval,  re 
spected  in  his  religious  society.  An  old  man 
when  his  sons  were  lads,  he  had  learned  the 
farmer's  wisdom  that  overrules  the  rash  impulses 
of  youth  and  shuts  out  vain  fancies,  and  he 
warned  his  boys  against  the  folly  of  trying  to  be 
aught  but  what  the  generations  before  him  had 
been.  It  was  the  mother, —  far  younger  than 


10          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

her  husband, —  from  whom  Whittier  and  his  sis 
ter  Elizabeth  drew  their  brilliant  eyes  and  emo 
tional  sensitiveness,1  who  understood  best  the 
son  and  cherished  his  ambitions.  She  was  a 
beautiful  and  godly  woman,  full  of  a  saintly 
peace  and  an  overflowing  human  kindness  which 
made  her  a  very  type  of  her  religion. 

Such  were  the  qualities  that  were  Whittier's 
physical  heritage  or  early  presented  for  his  imi 
tation.  They  were  in  the  main  conservative  in 
fluences,  such  as  would  attach  him  to  the  seven 
teenth  century  homestead,  so  well  founded  and 
so  well  protected.  Physically,  it  was  a  robust 
heritage,  for  was  he  not  the  son  of  an  active 
and  resolute  farmer,  of  a  race  of  sturdy  pioneers, 
save  that,  perhaps,  as  a  late-born  son  of  a  line  of 
younger  sons,  his  was  a  more  delicate  and  less 
powerful  frame,  of  the  nervous  type  that  wears 
long  but  must  labor  less  unremittingly.  In 
tellectually,  it  was  a  sincere  and  trustworthy 
heritage.  He  would  have  been  false  to  all  tra 
dition,  had  he,  with  such  a  past,  been  a  careless 
citizen,  a  faithless  friend,  or  an  unworthy  man. 
In  all  respects  it  was  a  typical  New  England 

1  It  is  usually  said  that  the  mother  was  a  descendant  of 
Stephen  Bachiler,  the  famous  old  Portsmouth  preacher,  whose 
striking  appearance  was  transmitted  to  many  of  his  posterity, 
among  them  both  Whittier  and  Webster.  But  the  genealogy 
in  Whittier's  case  has  been  proved  false.  See  N.  E.  Histori 
cal  and  Genealogical  Register,  1896,  i.  295. 


BOYHOOD  11 

heritage,  and  his  birth  had  seemingly  given  him 
neither  more  nor  less  than  the  common  lot  of  his 
fellows. 

We  may  now  look  with  more  definiteness  to 
the  surroundings  of  his  earlier  years,  which 
moulded  the  young  spirit  before  it  had  grown 
strong  enough  to  have  its  own  individuality, 
while  he  was  still  highly  receptive,  without  per 
sonal  choice,  of  the  influences  acting  upon  him. 

In  later  life,  replying  to  questions  as  to  his 
early  life,  Whittier  said  :  — 

"  I  think  at  the  age  of  which  thy  note  in 
quires  I  found  about  equal  satisfaction  in  an  old 
rural  home,  with  the  shifting  panorama  of  the 
seasons,  in  reading  the  few  books  within  my 
reach,  and  dreaming  of  something  wonderful 
and  grand  somewhere  in  the  future.  Neither 
change  nor  loss  had  then  made  me  realize  the 
uncertainty  of  all  earthly  things.  I  felt  secure 
of  my  mother's  love,  and  dreamed  of  losing 
nothing  and  gaining  much.  ...  I  had  at  that 
time  a  great  thirst  for  knowledge  and  little 
means  to  gratify  it.  The  beauty  of  outward 
nature  early  impressed  me,  and  the  moral  and 
spiritual  beauty  of  the  holy  lives  I  read  of  in  the 
Bible  and  other  good  books  also  affected  me 
with  a  sense  of  my  falling  short  and  longing  for 
a  better  state."  l 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  26. 


12          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

The  region  in  which  Whittier  spent  his  life  is 
singularly  charming  and,  it  may  be  added,  very 
typical  of  New  England.  Remote  from  the  life 
of  a  large  city, —  so  properly  stimulating  to  the 
mature,  so  improperly  stimulating  to  the  young, 
—  the  district  was  yet  near  enough  to  a  port  of 
considerable  importance  to  make  a  child  sensible 
of  the  outer  world  and  its  currents  of  trade.  It 
presented  an  admirable  diversity  of  prospect. 
Within  sight  of  the  mountains,  within  sound  of 
the  sea,  it  had  its  forests  and  intervales,  its 
rounded  glacial  hills,  its  marshes  and  meadow 
land  and  orchards  and  planted  fields,  its  beauti 
ful  lakes  and  its  noble  river.  Besides  these  out 
ward  charms  the  district  had  to  the  reflective 
mind  another  attraction :  it  was  his.  His  ances 
tors  had  lived  there  since  first  the  wilderness 
path  was  trodden  by  white  men ;  it  had  a  wealth 
of  impressive  local  legend  and  history ;  and  none 
of  all  this  associative  influence  was  lost  on  the 
lad.  Many  of  his  poems  stick  so  closely  to  the 
familiar  landscape  that  only  the  native  can  take 
in  their  full  meaning,  and  the  stranger  must 
read  them  map  in  hand ;  and  his  prose  sketches 
look  back  to  the  old  scenes.  In  them  he  recalls 
more  specifically  than  in  his  verse  the  scenes  im 
pressed  so  deeply  on  his  early  recollections :  — 

"The  old  farmhouse  nestling  in  its  valley; 
hills  stretching  off  to  the  south  and  green  mead- 


BOYHOOD  13 

ows  to  the  east ;  the  small  stream  which  came 
noisily  down  its  ravine,  washing  the  old  garden- 
wall  and  softly  lapping  on  fallen  stones  and 
mossy  roots  of  beeches  and  hemlocks ;  the  tall 
sentinel  poplars  at  the  gateway ;  the  oak  forest, 
sweeping  unbroken  to  the  northern  horizon ;  the 
grass-grown  carriage-path,  with  its  rude  and 
crazy  bridge, —  the  dear  old  landscape  of  my 
boyhood  lies  outstretched  before  me  like  a  da 
guerreotype  from  that  picture  within,  which  I 
have  borne  with  me  in  all  my  wanderings." 1 

"  Our  old  homestead  (the  house  was  very  old 
for  a  new  country,  having  been  built  about  the 
time  that  the  Prince  of  Orange  drove  out  James 
the  Second)  nestled  under  a  long  range  of  hills 
which  stretched  off  to  the  west.  It  was  sur 
rounded  by  woods  in  all  directions  save  to  the 
southeast,  where  a  break  in  the  leafy  wall  re 
vealed  a  vista  of  low  green  meadows,  picturesque 
with  wooded  islands  and  jutting  capes  of  upland. 
Through  these  a  small  brook,  noisy  enough  as  it 
foamed,  rippled,  and  laughed  down  its  rocky 
falls  by  our  garden-side,  wound,  silently  and 
scarcely  visible,  to  a  still  larger  stream,  known 
as  the  Country  Brook.  This  brook  in  its  turn, 
after  doing  duty  at  two  or  three  saw  and  grist 
mills,  the  clack  of  which  we  could  hear  in  still 
days  across  the  intervening  woodlands,  found  its 
1  "Yankee  Gypsies,"  in  Prose  Works,  i.  330. 


14         JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

way  to  the  great  river,  and  the  river  took  up 
and  bore  it  down  to  the  great  sea." l 

The  house  of  the  Whittiers  was  of  the  older, 
the  pioneer  type.  Thousands  like  it  exist  in 
New  England,  though  few  are  so  excellently 
preserved,  and  none  is  so  deservedly  famous, 
for  this  single  dwelling  has  become  in  literature 
the  type  of  all  the  homely  houses  in  which  New 
England  families  gathered  around  their  firesides 
in  the  days  now  gone,  in  a  fashion  of  life  now 
almost  entirely  passed  away  in  that  section  of 
the  country.  This  homestead,  which  Whittier 
himself  described  in  "  Snow-Bound,"  was  of  a 
type  wholly  conformable  to  the  needs  and  spirit 
of  country  life,  as  different  as  could  be  from  the 
mansions  of  the  South  or  even  from  those  of 
Boston  and  Newburyport.  Those  were  for  the 
gentry,  that  small  class  that  loomed  for  a  while 
so  large  in  American  history,  played  so  well  its 
part,  and  finally  became  virtually  extinct  as  its 
policy  became  more  falsely  conservative,  more  es 
sentially  un-American,  less  sensitive  to  the  great 
principles  of  honor  and  justice  and  equality. 
The  stately  buildings  of  Beacon  Street  meant 
less  for  the  commonwealth  than  the  homesteads 
of  Essex  County,  whose  simple  structure  followed 

1  "  The  Fish  I  Did  n't  Catch,"  in  Prose  Works,  i.  320.  See  also 
"  My  Summer  with  Dr.  Single tary,"  ibid.,  in  which  the  neighbor 
ing  district  by  the  riverside,  the  "  Rocks,"  is  described  in  detail. 


BOYHOOD  15 

the  needs  of  a  household  in  which  servants  were 
unknown ;  the  company  that  gathered  around 
the  hearth  was  united  in  mutual  dependence,  — 
a  dependence  typical  of  the  relations  of  all  citi 
zens  to  one  another  and  to  the  state. 

The  kin  and  the  guests  that  met  in  the  great- 
chimneyed  kitchen  were  equally  typical  of  New 
England.  Of  the  father  and  the  mother  we 
have  already  spoken.  There  were  also  brothers 
and  sisters,  each  quiet  or  gay,  practical  or 
dreamy,  according  to  his  temperament ;  a 
maiden  aunt,  who  might  have  had  her  own 
household  had  the  lover  lived  whose  apparition 
so  strangely  visited  her  at  the  hour  of  his  death 
in  a  distant  place  ;  and  a  bachelor  uncle,  one 
of  the  sort  found  in  every  New  England  village, 
but  scarcely  known  in  literature  except  through 
the  personality  of  Thoreau,  —  an  unworldly 
man,  fond  of  the  woods  and  fields  and  their 
denizens,  a  faint  and  less  strenuous  survival  of 
the  pioneer.  Of  guests  there  were  the  winter 
schoolmasters,  country  lads  themselves,  adding 
to  the  slender  resources  needed  for  their  educa 
tion  by  teaching  in  the  college  vacation,  pur 
posely  lengthened  for  such  as  they,  —  striplings 
themselves,  but  stimulating  boys  to  acquire 
learning,  and  destined  almost  invariably  to  play 
well  their  diverse  parts  in  later  life.  There 
came,  too,  the  pedler  with  his  pack  and  his 


16          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

gossip ;  the  visiting  Friend,  sometimes  a  man  of 
renown,  for  the  yearly  meeting  at  Amesbury  was 
well  attended ;  the  companionable  neighbor ;  the 
chance  traveller,  hung  about  with  the  glamour  of 
foreign  lands,  and  bringing  to  a  spot  apparently 
so  isolated  the  sense  of  the  huge  outer  world, 
as  the  eastern  winds  brought  sometimes  to  the 
hill  farm  the  thunder  of  the  Atlantic  surf. 
Such  companionship  and  such  influences  were  in 
deed  rural,  rustic,  but  these  words  must  not  be 
applied  in  any  contemptuous  sense.  A  group  like 
this  was  ignorant  of  city  ways,  but  it  possessed 
in  itself  all  the  elements  —  save,  perhaps,  knav 
ery —  which,  variously  combined,  constitute  the 
interests,  the  ambitions,  the  toil,  and  the  weari 
ness  of  life.  Quietly  the  country  boy  could 
learn  his  great  lesson. 

With  this  ancestry,  in  this  environment, 
Whittier  spent  his  boyhood  in  the  placid  labor 
and  simple  sport  of  the  farmer's  lad.  Physi 
cally  the  life  was  in  many  respects  ill  suited  to 
a  delicate  constitution.  Thoughtlessly  subservi 
ent  in  such  matters  to  tradition,  the  farmers 
dried  their  fresh  meat  by  excessive  cooking,  ate 
too  much  salt  food,  clothed  themselves  too 
thinly,  ignored  too  openly  the  now  plain  hy 
giene  of  life,  and  weaklings  fell  an  easy  prey  to 
consumption  or  survived  to  live  the  death-in-life 
of  the  dyspeptic.  But  even  on  the  physical  side 


BOYHOOD  17 

there  were  compensations,  and  in  the  city  almost 
the  same  evils  existed,  in  an  epoch  of  lanky  sal- 
lowness  that  is  only  now  passing  away  from  the 
nation  as  a  whole.  The  life  in  the  open  air, 
the  diversity  of  labor  and  its  many  intermissions, 
the  companionship  with  animals,  the  freedom 
from  hurry  and  irritation,  were  good  for  boy  and 
man,  and  Whittier  clung  long  to  the  farming  life, 
and  never  spoke  of  it  contemptuously,  knowing 
what  was  the  mingled  joy  and  torture  of  slowly 
wringing,  by  the  sweat  of  the  brow,  the  necessa 
ries  of  life  from  a  not  too  fertile  soil.  And  on 
the  intellectual  and  spiritual  side,  there  was  much 
to  be  gained.  Less  learned  in  books  than  Long 
fellow  or  Holmes  or  Lowell,  he  had  perforce  a 
stronger  hold  in  boyhood  on  certain  excellent 
elements  of  character,  —  industry,  frugality,  pa 
tience,  and  independence. 

We  may  now  pause  a  moment,  before  taking 
up  the  actual  narrative  of  Whittier's  boyhood, 
to  see  if  we  can  determine  the  fundamental 
principles  of  life,  if  such  they  may  be  called, 
which  he  unconsciously  absorbed  from  his  early 
environment  and  which  were  later  to  be  strongly 
effective  in  determining  his  course  of  action. 

It  is  plain  that  we  cannot  be  wrong,  in  the 
first  place,  in  throwing  stress  upon  a  principle 
of  local  permanency,  a  feeling  of  attachment  to 
a  given  locality.  Father  and  son,  the  Whittiers 


18          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

had  been  for  centuries  associated  with  a  special 
place  and  owned  brotherhood  to  the  men  of  the 
district,  to  whom  they  were  allied  by  relation 
ship,  by  common  interests,  by  long  association, 
and  by  similar  habits  of  speech,  thought,  and 
action.  They  were  Essex  County  men,  —  more 
specially  still,  Haverhill  men,  —  and  they  formed 
a  clan  of  their  own,  a  clan  based  less  on  actual 
kinship  than  on  permanent  connection  with  a 
given  spot,  on  citizenship  in  a  given  district. 
Other  districts  there  were  within  the  boundaries 
of  the  state  and  the  group  of  related  states. 
Each,  too,  had  its  particular  characteristics  and 
associations.  And  so  to  Whittier's  young  eyes 
New  England  must  have  seemed  a  great  series 
of  commonwealths  within  commonwealths,  each 
with  its  particular  identity  well  preserved,  —  a 
state  of  mind  not  easily  clear  to  the  metropoli 
tan  boy  of  to-day,  whose  stock  has  usually  been 
several  times  transplanted,  and  who  in  his  no 
madic  existence  has  acquired  small  allegiance 
to  any  spot  of  soil  or  group  of  men.  One  has 
only  to  read  "  Massachusetts  to  Virginia  "  or  the 
boyish  "Song  of  the  Vermonters,"  to  understand 
how  clearly  Whittier  visualized  and  localized  the 
kindred  clans  and  tribes  of  New  England. 

A  second  basis  of  thought  and  action  familiar 
to  Whittier  was  that  of  local  independence. 
Each  of  the  districts  we  have  described  was,  to 


BOYHOOD  19 

a  very  considerable  extent,  not  only  politically 
but  intellectually,  spiritually,  and  socially  inde 
pendent.  It  had  its  own  schools,  which  sufficed 
it,  its  own  newspapers,  its  own  churches,  sub 
ject  to  no  outside  interference  and  needing  no 
outside  help,  its  own  circles  of  friends  and 
neighbors,  into  which  strangers  rarely  entered. 
Haverhill,  Merrimac,  and  Amesbury  all  turned 
to  Newburyport  as  a  large  trading  centre  and 
port  of  entry,  but  with  no  feeling  of  suburban- 
ness.  Boston  was  a  distant  city,  the  recent  seat 
of  the  General  Court,  and  a  place  of  size  and 
importance,  but  it  had  apparently  no  more  in 
fluence  on  Whittier's  boyhood  than  London.  It 
was  scarcely  forty  miles  from  Newburyport,  but 
he  seems  to  have  visited  it  only  once  before 
he  was  twenty.  The  urban  movement  had  not 
yet  begun,  and  the  placid  villages  dwelt  serenely 
apart,  like  Homer's  Cyclopes,  makers  of  their 
own  fates. 

Thirdly,  the  New  England  villager  felt  in  his 
heart  of  hearts  that  if  he  deliberately  set  for 
himself  a  goal  of  ambition,  and  was  willing  to 
bend  himself  to  it  with  enthusiasm,  he  could 
count,  humanly  speaking,  on  attaining  it.  No 
career  was  closed  to  the  man  of  intelligence  and 
industry.  The  country  was  growing  rapidly, 
and  her  needs  outran  her  supply  of  men.  She 
could  use  all  her  own  worthy  sons  and  all  that 


20          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHIT  TIER 

came  from  abroad.  There  was,  comparatively 
speaking,  little  competition,  and  intellectual  life 
of  all  sorts  was  so  young,  so  far  from  complex, 
that  one  could  scarcely  move  a  step  without 
opening  up  vistas  of  the  unknown,  waiting  to  be 
appropriated  by  some  stalwart  brain  that  could, 
like  the  pioneer,  subdue  the  tangle  of  the  wilder 
ness.  Country  birth  or  a  slender  education  was 
no  bar  to  success.  High  aspirations  and  per 
sistent  industry  were  the  essentials,  and  we  find 
both  Whittier  and  Garrison,  born  of  families  in 
which  the  men  lived  by  manual  labor,  with  little 
education  and  only  a  modicum  of  special  train 
ing,  declaring  that  they  would  yet  make  the  land 
ring  with  their  fame,  quite  as  confidently  as  did 
the  young  Longfellow,  whose  ancestors  had  for 
four  generations  been  men  of  education,  and 
who  was  at  almost  precisely  the  same  time  giv 
ing  expression  to  a  similar  desire  for  glory. 

Last  of  all,  a  strong  religious  element  was 
very  frequently  present  in  the  young  New  Eng- 
lander  of  the  time.  The  outward  hold  of  the 
rigid  old  orthodoxy  was  slowly  weakening,  espe 
cially  throughout  eastern  Massachusetts ;  Unita 
rian  and  Universalist  churches  were  springing 
up,  and  there  was  a  growing  tendency  to  accept 
whatever  forms  of  religious  thought  showed 
more  affection  toward  God  and  more  tenderness 
toward  man.  The  power  of  the  clergy,  still  jeal- 


BOYHOOD  21 

otisly  defended,  was  a  mere  shadow  of  its  former 
self  and  was  destined  soon  to  be  broken  entirely. 
But  this  outward  decay  of  a  formal  creed  was 
merely  a  sign  that  the  essentials  of  the  faith  it 
so  clumsily  expressed  were  being  thoroughly  ab 
sorbed  by  the  people  at  large.  The  active  prin 
ciple  of  Puritanism  had  done  its  work.  This 
great  movement  had  been  begun  to  insist  on  the 
purification  of  the  church,  to  restore  the  pristine 
faith  of  Christ  in  its  purity.  The  established 
churches  resisted  the  movement ;  as  permanent 
organizations  they  claimed  the  right  to  deter 
mine  the  faith,  to  set  the  creed.  The  new  tenet 
of  the  Puritans,  the  tenet  that  colonized  the 
Western  world,  was  that  the  faith  had  already 
been  determined  by  its  founder,  and  was  specifi 
cally  defined,  not  by  a  self -perpetuating  organi 
zation,  but  by  a  written  contract  or  constitution, 
the  Scriptures ;  from  the  theory  of  salvation 
as  there  laid  down  the  established  churches  had 
obviously  departed.  In  these  propositions  they 
were  clearly  logically  correct.  Granted  the  va 
lidity  of  the  Scriptures  as  a  complete  revelation, 
it  was  plain  that  all  intelligent  minds  could  act 
upon  their  prescriptions,  and  could  thus  have 
access  to  the  source  of  the  law.  The  influence 
of  this  deduction  was  enormous.  In  the  midst 
of  the  mad  attempt  to  rule  communities  of  the 
seventeenth  century  in  accordance  with  the  in- 


22          JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHIT  TIER 

tricate  and  contradictory  records  of  the  early 
tribal  legislation  of  the  Hebrews,  one  main  doc 
trine  retained  its  efficacy, —  the  doctrine  that  the 
people  interpret  the  law  of  God, —  and  this  com 
bined  with  the  passion  for  political  independ 
ence,  of  which  it  was  in  part  the  cause,  to  give 
the  New  England  Puritan  both  a  desire  that 
God's  will  should  be  done  and  a  conviction  that 
he  could  himself  determine  what  God's  will  was 
likely  to  be. 

Not  only  was  Whittier  reared  in  this  general 
atmosphere  of  Puritanism,  with  its  emphasis  on 
the  democratic  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures 
and  its  passion  for  justice,  but  he  was  more  par 
ticularly  influenced  by  the  doctrines  of  the  Soci 
ety  of  Friends.  The  Quakers  were  the  ultra- 
Puritans  of  the  seventeenth  century.  They  would 
have  revivified  all  the  inherent  democratic  and 
individualistic  principles  of  the  Gospels.  They 
would  call  no  man  master,  nor  show  more  re 
spect  to  one  than  to  another.  They  lived  simply 
and  spoke  plainly.  They  cultivated  mercy  and 
loving-kindness.  Could  Christ  have  come  to 
earth  again,  they  it  would  clearly  have  been,  of 
all  the  Western  followers  of  an  Oriental  creed, 
that  He  would  have  recognized  as  most  patiently 
following  out  the  tenets  He  had  laid  most 
stress  on. 

But  the  essential  difference  between  the  Qua- 


BOYHOOD  23 

kers  and  the  other  forms  of  revolt  against  the 
established  and  organized  churches  lay  in  the 
stress  that  they  laid  upon  the  rights  of  the  indi 
vidual  and  his  access  to  the  source  of  authority. 
To  them  the  written  word  of  God  was  not  ail 
sufficient.  The  soul  of  the  believer  was  open  to 
the  promptings  of  the  spirit ;  the  inner  light,  the 
voice  of  God,  would  lead  him.  Such  a  principle 
opened  the  way  for  idiosyncrasies  and  whimsi 
calities  on  the  part  of  individuals,  but,  controlled 
by  the  judgment  of  the  whole  community  of  be 
lievers,  it  led  to  little  evil  and  brought  about 
much  good.  It  constantly  tended  to  weaken  the 
force  of  convention,  to  strengthen  the  conscience, 
to  open  the  mind  to  new  conceptions  of  justice, 
and  to  inculcate  essential  honesty  and  righteous 
ness  as  distinguished  from  the  code  of  morals 
prescribed  by  a  definite  creed.  Much  has  been 
said  of  the  rise  of  Unitarianism  in  New  England 
as  marking  the  breaking  down  of  the  rigid  reli 
gious  conceptions  of  the  eighteenth  century  and 
the  awakening  of  new  moral  forces  that  acted 
powerfully  for  advancement  in  civilization.  But 
the  Unitarian  movement,  in  most  respects,  merely 
meant  that  educated  people,  showing  the  effects 
of  generations  of  cultivation,  were  reaching  a 
conception  of  life  that  the  simple-minded  Qua 
kers  had  long  before  made  their  own.  It  seems 
to  be  a  law  of  life  that  moral  advancement  is 


24          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

not  primarily  the  work  of  the  wise  but  of  the  ig 
norant,  of  babes  and  sucklings. 

In  brief,  then,  we  may  see  that  in  spiritual 
and  religious  matters  Whittier  was  deeply  influ 
enced  by  principles  that  were  ultra-Puritan,  logi 
cally  Puritan,  but  far  in  advance  of  the  common 
orthodoxy  of  his  day,  and  was  thus  typical  not 
only  of  the  current  religious  belief  in  New  Eng 
land  but  of  the  great  impulse  toward  reform 
that  lay  dormant  therein. 


CHAPTER   II 

BOYHOOD 

1821-1828 

WHITTIER'S  lot  was  that  of  the  farmer's  boy. 
He  was  brought  up  to  take  his  share  in  the  tasks 
of  the  family.  "  At  an  early  age,"  he  said,  in 
the  autobiographical  leaflet  with  which  in  later 
life  he  used  to  answer  inquiries  about  his  boy 
hood,1  "  I  was  set  at  work  on  the  farm,  and  do 
ing  errands  for  my  mother,  who,  in  addition  to 
her  ordinary  house  duties,  was  busy  in  spinning 
and  weaving  the  linen  and  woollen  cloth  needed 
in  the  family."  Later  there  came,  as  his  strength 
allowed,  the  lighter  tasks  of  the  barn  and  the 
field,  and  then  the  more  taxing.  All  this  was 
excellent  training  for  body  and  mind,  —  better 
indeed  for  the  mind  than  for  the  body.  Intel 
lectual  habits  may  sometimes  be  best  acquired 
through  manual  labor.  Whittier's  neatness  and 
accuracy  of  mind,  the  cool  judgment  and  readi 
ness  of  intelligence  which  he  displayed  from  the 
very  outset  of  his  studies,  probably  had  much  to 
do  with  the  discipline  he  received  from  his  work 

1  Reprinted  in  Appendix,  i. 


26          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

on  the  farm.  But  if  his  intellect  grew,  his 
body  suffered.  Ambition  or  necessity  led  him 
to  forms  of  labor  too  severe  for  his  strength, 
and  the  swinging  of  the  flail  left  him  with  dis 
abilities  that  lasted  through  his  life;  the  ex 
posure  with  insufficient  clothing  to  the  bitter 
New  England  weather  gave  him  a  bronchial 
weakness ;  and  the  bad  food  caused  dyspepsia. 
If  all  the  possibilities  of  his  great  career  came 
from  the  opportunities  offered  by  his  ancestry 
and  his  environment,  all  the  bodily  imperfec 
tions  that  hemmed  him  in  so  narrowly  sprang 
from  the  same  source. 

Whittier's  formal  education  was  scarcely 
greater  than  that  of  an  ordinary  country  boy. 
He  learned  to  read  at  home,  and  then  attended 
the  district  school  for  periods  proportionately 
less  as  his  labor  on  the  farm  became  increas 
ingly  valuable.  He  studied  there  only  the  old 
three  rudiments,  and  those  only  in  the  strange 
old  ways.  Both  the  course  of  study  and  the 
method  of  teaching  are  now  frowned  upon  by 
the  theorists  of  our  time,  and  apparently  with 
reason.  But  there  was  that  in  the  earnestness 
of  both  pupils  and  teachers  which  made  up  for 
many  deficiencies.  We  must  never  forget  that 
these  little  villages  were  at  that  time  alive  with 
ambition  and  energy,  steeped  in  spiritual,  intel 
lectual,  and  physical  influences  that  filled  re- 


BOYHOOD  27 

sponsive  minds  with  a  strange  force  like  that  of 
electricity.  Whatever  boys  saturated  with  that 
force  touched  became  their  own.  Teachers  gave 
more  than  they  knew,  and  multitudes  grew 
strong  on  what  now  seem  the  husks  of  learning. 

Farm  life  at  that  time  afforded  little  change 
of  scene.  Whittier  knew  Newburyport  and  the 
villages  round  about,  but  Boston,  though  only 
forty  miles  away,  was  to  him  a  distant  region, 
almost  completely  without  influence  on  his  life 
and  thought.  Once  only,  apparently,  did  he  visit 
the  city  before  he  was  twenty,  clad  in  a  new 
home-spun  suit  of  Quaker  cut,  with  the  adorn 
ment  of  "  boughten  buttons."  Even  then  he  re 
turned  by  the  next  day's  stage,  startled  to  find 
that  a  charming  woman  whom  he  had  met  at  the 
house  of  a  relative  was  an  actress,  and  hence  di 
rectly  connected  with  the  theatre,  that  evil  place 
against  which  his  mother  had  so  strictly  warned 
him  on  his  departure.  Perhaps,  too,  he  was  de 
pressed  and  bewildered  by  the  bustling  life  of  the 
little  city.  In  his  old  age  he  was  accustomed  to 
tell  thus  the  tale  of  his  discomfiture :  — 

44  *  I  wandered  up  and  down  the  streets/  he 
used  to  say.  4  Somehow  it  was  n't  just  what  I 
expected,  and  the  crowd  was  worse  and  worse 
after  I  got  into  Washington  Street ;  and  when 
I  got  tired  of  being  jostled,  it  seemed  to  me  as 
if  the  folks  might  get  by  if  I  waited  a  little 


28          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

while.  Some  of  them  looked  at  me,  and  so  I 
stepped  into  an  alleyway  and  waited  and  looked 
out.  Sometimes  there  did  n't  seem  to  be  so 
many  passing,  and  I  thought  of  starting,  and 
then  they  'd  begin  again.  'T  was  a  terrible 
stream  of  people  to  me.  I  began  to  think  my 
new  clothes  and  the  buttons  were  all  thrown 
away.  I  stayed  there  a  good  while.'  (This  was 
said  with  great  amusement.)  '  I  began  to  be 
homesick.  I  thought  it  made  no  difference  at 
all  about  my  having  those  boughten  buttons.'  "  l 
At  home  he  had  access  to  few  books,  —  the 
Bible,  which  he  perforce  knew  as  lads  of  to-day 
can  never  know  it,  and  some  twenty  or  thirty 
odd  volumes,  mostly  the  sermons,  tracts,  bio 
graphies,  or  journals  of  famous  Friends,  which 
he  read  again  and  again.  Nowadays  we  read 
too  much,  as  we  eat  too  much  ;  the  memory,  like 
the  digestion,  is  weakened  by  surfeit.  Then,  in 
times  of  scarcity,  the  mind  made  the  most  of 
what  it  received,  extracting  every  particle  of 
nutriment  from  the  rough  fare.  With  John 
Woolman's  poignant  autobiography  he  was  ap 
parently  not  then  acquainted,  but  he  knew  the 
"  tales  of  faith  fire-winged  by  martyrdom "  of 
"  painful  Sewel's  ancient  tome,"  and  from  this, 
from  the  "  old  and  quaint  "  journal  of  Chalk- 

1  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields,  Whittier,  Notes  of  his  Life  and  of 
his  Friendships,  26. 


BOYHOOD  29 

ley,  "  fare  sea-saint,"  as  well  as  from  the  bio 
graphies  of  those  unrepentant  New  England 
rogues,  George  Burrows  and  Henry  Tufts,  he 
learned  to  distinguish  the  warp  and  woof  of  the 
great  web  of  life.  Other  books  came  by  chance. 
He  knew  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  long  re 
membered  a  picture  of  the  "  evil  angel,  horned, 
hoofed,  scaly,  and  fire-breathing,  illustrating  the 
tremendous  encounter  of  Christian  in  the  valley 
where 4  Apollyon  straddled  over  the  whole  breadth 
of  the  way.' "  1  He  had  Lindley  Murray's  "  Eng 
lish  Header  "  and  Caleb  Bingham's  "  American 
Preceptor,"  —  to  both  be  honor,  for  from  each 
many  a  youth  learned  the  dignity  and  nobility 
of  literature.  Narratives  of  travel  and  adven 
ture  he  obtained  from  time  to  time  from  Dr. 
Weld,  the  good  old  physician  of  "  Snow-Bound," 
or  from  others,  sometimes  walking  miles  for  the 
purpose  ;  and  once  there  fell  into  his  hands  one 
of  the  Waverley  novels,  which  he  read  at  night 
with  his  sister  by  stealth,  the  candle  seeming 
always  to  expire  as  they  reached  the  very  crisis. 
Of  good  poetry,  however,  there  was  a  sad  lack 
in  the  household,  according  to  his  own  testimony, 
although  he  also  says  that  he  remembers  "  how, 
at  a  very  early  age,  the  solemn  organ-roll  of 
Gray's  '  Elegy '  and  the  lyric  sweep  and  pathos 
of  Cowper's  '  Lament  for  the  Royal  George  ' 

1  Supernaturalism  of  New  England,  iii. 


30          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

moved  and  fascinated  me  with  a  sense  of  mys 
tery  and  power  felt,  rather  than  understood." 
In  any  case,  it  was  the  first  great  crisis  of  his 
life  when  he  read  Burns,  all  his  imagination 
bursting  at  once  into  sudden  flame. 

The  introduction  came  in  two  different  ways. 

"  One  day  we  had  a  call  from  a  '  pawky  auld 
carle '  of  a  wandering  Scotchman.  To  him  I 
owe  my  first  introduction  to  the  songs  of  Burns. 
After  eating  his  bread  and  cheese  and  drinking 
his  mug  of  cider  he  gave  us  Bonny  Doon,  High 
land  Mary,  and  Auld  Lang  Syne.  He  had  a 
rich  full  voice,  and  entered  heartily  into  the 
spirit  of  his  lyrics.  I  have  since  listened  to  the 
same  melodies  from  the  lips  of  Dempster,  than 
whom  the  Scottish  bard  has  had  no  sweeter  or 
truer  interpreter ;  but  the  skilful  performance 
of  the  artist  lacked  the  novel  charm  of  the 
gaberlunzie's  singing  in  the  old  farmhouse 
kitchen."1 

"When  I  was  fourteen  years  old,  my  first 
schoolmaster,  Joshua  Coffin,  the  able,  eccentric 
historian  of  Newbury,  brought  with  him  to  our 
house  a  volume  of  Burns's  poems,  from  which 
he  read,  greatly  to  my  delight.  I  begged  him 
to  leave  the  book  with  me,  and  set  myself  at 
once  to  the  task  of  mastering  the  glossary  of  the 
Scottish  dialect  at  its  close.  This  was  about 

1  "  Yankee  Gypsies,"  Prose  Works,  1.  336. 


BOYHOOD  31 

the  first  poetry  I  had  ever  read,  —  with  the  ex 
ception  of  that  of  the  Bible,  of  which  I  had 
been  a  close  student,  —  and  it  had  a  lasting  in 
fluence  upon  me.  I  began  to  make  rhymes  my 
self,  and  to  imagine  stories  and  adventures.  In 
fact,  I  lived  a  sort  of  dual  life,  and  in  a  world  of 
fancy,  as  well  as  in  the  world  of  plain  matter-of- 
fact  about  me."  1 

Whittier's  early  admiration  for  Burns  may  too 
have  been  stimulated  by  his  acquaintance  with 
Robert  Dinsmore,  of  the  neighboring  town  of 
Windham,  N.  H.,  a  Scotch  farmer  and  verse 
writer  and  an  ardent  admirer  and  imitator  of 
Burns,  a  little  volume  of  whose  simple  poems 
was  published  in  Haverhill  in  1828  by  Whittier's 
friend  and  patron,  Mr.  A.  W.  Thayer,  Whittier 
himself  contributing  some  Scottish  verses  to  the 
"rustic  bard."  The  downright  honesty  and 
genuine  humanity  of  Dinsmore's  work  is  well 
brought  out  in  a  delightful  essay  of  Whittier's, 
written  in  his  maturer  years,  a  passage  from 
which  will  indicate  the  qualities  that  must  have 
influenced  him  as  a  boy :  — 

"  He  tells  us  of  his  farm  life,  its  joys  and  sor 
rows,  its  mirth  and  care,  with  no  embellishment, 
with  no  concealment  of  repulsive  and  ungraceful 
features.  Never  having  seen  a  nightingale,  he 
makes  no  attempt  to  describe  the  fowl ;  but  he 

1  Autobiographical  Sketch,  in  Appendix,  i. 


32          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

has  seen  the  night  hawk,  at  sunset,  cutting  the 
air  above  him,  and  he  tells  of  it.  Side  by  side 
with  his  waving  cornfields  and  orchard  blooms 
we  have  the  barnyard  and  pigsty.  Nothing 
which  was  to  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  his 
home  and  avocation  was  to  him  'common  or 
unclean.'  Take,  for  instance,  the  following,  from 
a  poem  written  at  the  close  of  autumn,  after  the 
death  of  his  wife  :  — 

" '  No  more  may  I  the  Spring  Brook  trace, 
No  more  with  sorrow  view  the  place 

Where  Mary's  wash-tub  stood ; 
No  more  may  wander  there  alone, 
And  lean  upon  the  mossy  stone 

Where  once  she  piled  her  wood. 
'T  was  there  she  bleached  her  linen  cloth, 

By  yonder  bass-wood  tree  ; 
From  that  sweet  stream  she  made  her  broth, 

Her  pudding  and  her  tea. 
That  stream,  whose  waters  running, 

O'er  mossy  root  and  stone, 
Made  ringing  and  singing, 

Her  voice  could  match  alone.' 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  was  chaffering  in 
the  market-place  of  my  native  village,  swapping 
potatoes  and  onions  and  pumpkins  for  tea,  coffee, 
molasses,  and,  if  the  truth  be  told,  New  England 
rum.  Threescore  years  and  ten,  to  his  own 
words, 

"  '  Hung  o'er  his  back, 
And  bent  him  like  a  muckle  pack,' 

yet  he  still  stood  stoutly  and  sturdily  in  his  thick 


BOYHOOD  33 

shoes  of  cowhide,  like  one  accustomed  to  tread 
independently  the  soil  of  his  own  acres, —  his 
broad,  honest  face  seamed  by  care  and  darkened 
by  exposure  to  '  all  the  airts  that  blow,'  and  his 
white  hair  flowing  in  patriarchal  glory  beneath 
his  felt  hat.  A  genial,  jovial,  large-hearted  old 
man,  simple  as  a  child,  and  betraying,  neither  in 
look  nor  manner,  that  he  was  accustomed  to 

"  '  Feed  on  thoughts  which  voluntary  move 
Harmonious  numbers.' 

Peace  to  him !  A  score  of  modern  dancfies  and 
sentimentalists  could  ill  supply  the  place  of 
this  one  honest  man.  In  the  ancient  burial- 
ground  of  Windham,  by  the  side  of  his  '  beloved 
Molly,'  and  in  view  of  the  old  meeting-house, 
there  is  a  mound  of  earth,  where,  every  spring, 
green  grasses  tremble  in  the  wind  and  the  warm 
sunshine  calls  out  the  flowers.  There,  gathered 
like  one  of  his  own  ripe  sheaves,  the  farmer  poet 
sleeps  with  his  fathers."  l 

From  at  least  two  sources,  then, —  from  Coffin 
in  1821,  from  the  wandering  minstrel  earlier, 
and  later  perhaps  from  Dinsmore, —  Whittier 
received  the  gift  of  Prometheus,  the  fire  that 
kindled  him.  What  Burns  had  done  in  Scot 
land,  "\Vhittier  might  possibly  have  done  in  New 
England ;  but  Burns's  feet  rested  on  the  shoul- 

1  "  Robert  Dinsmore,"  in  Prose  Works,  ii.  256,  259. 


34         JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

ders  of  other  singers  of  his  race,  and  Whittier  as 
a  poet  had  no  local  ancestry.  Unassisted,  he 
would  have  come  only  tardily  to  a  realization  of 
the  fact  that  the  best  materials  for  song  lay 
right  about  him  ;  under  other  influences  he  would 
have  made  wider  detours  from  the  straight  path. 
It  was  thus  the  greatest  good  fortune  that  his 
first  master  was  Burns  rather  than  Wordsworth 
or  Coleridge  or  Byron,  or,  worst  of  all  for  him, 
Keats.  He  had  already  begun,  as  he  implies 
in  his  mature  lines  on  Burns,  to  "  dream  of  lands 
of  gold  and  pearl,  of  loving  knight  and  lady," 
when  he  was  brought  firmly  back  to  "  farmer  boy 
and  barefoot  girl,"  and  taught  to  see  "  through 
all  familiar  things  the  romance  underlying." 

"  New  light  on  home-seen  Nature  beamed, 

New  glory  over  Woman ; 
And  daily  life  and  duty  seemed 
No  longer  poor  and  common.  .  .  . 

"  O'er  rank  and  pomp,  as  he  had  seen, 

I  saw  the  Man  uprising ; 
No  longer  common  or  unclean, 
The  child  of  God's  baptizing ! 

"  With  clearer  eyes  I  saw  the  worth 

Of  life  among  the  lowly  ; 
The  Bible  at  his  Cotter's  hearth 
Had  made  my  own  more  holy." 

Children  like  to  rhyme,  the  juxtaposition  of 
words  of  similar  sound  delighting  them  much  as 
plays  on  words  do  simple  people  of  a  later 


BOYHOOD  35 

growth  ;  but  the  taste  soon  disappears.  In  Whit- 
tier  it  was  more  permanent.  As  a  small  boy  he 
covered  his  slate  with  verses,  instead  of  with 
sums,  when  he  sat  by  the  hearth  in  the  evening ; 
and  apparently  soon  passed  from  the  first  stage, 
doggerel,  into  the  second,  imitation  of  the  occa 
sional  verses  he  found  in  the  poetical  corner  of 
the  weekly  paper  or  in  the  school  reader.  By 
1823  he  showed  both  talent  and  practice,  for 
some  lines  in  an  album,  of  which  the  following 
are  part,  bear  that  date  :  — 

"  When  our  moments  of  youth  are  glided  away, 

When  the  pleasures  of  youth  are  sunk  in  decay, 

When  the  hopes  we  have  cherished  and  the  joys  we  have  known 

Oblivion  has  covered  and  time  overthrown, 

If  these  lines  come  before  thee,  thy  memory  may  cast 

Through  the  wreck  of  long  years  a  dim  thought  of  the  past, 

Thou  mayst  think  upon  him  who  thus  feebly  has  penned 

The  lines  here  annexed  to  the  name  of  a  friend." 

Here  he  has  caught  the  swing  of  long  lines  as 
neatly  as  in  "  The  Willows,"  a  poem  of  about 
the  same  time,  he  reached  the  full  spirit  of 
Woodwork's  "Old  Oaken  Bucket,"  —  which, 
though  not  itself  original  in  form,  had  proved 
sufficiently  original  in  matter  to  become  at  once 
a  great  favorite.  Whittier's  verses  are  palpably 
imitative,  but  not  basely  so.  The  main  idea  is 
another's ;  its  application  in  detail  is  his  own, 
and  the  adjectives  do  credit  to  his  growing  power 
of  selection. 


36          JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHIT  TIER 

11  Oh,  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  which  delighted 

My  fancy  in  moments  I  ne'er  can  recall, 
When  each  happy  hour  new  pleasures  invited, 

And  hope  pictured  visions  more  holy  than  all. 
Then  I  gazed  with  light  heart,  transported  and  glowing, 

On  the  forest-crowned  hill  and  the  rivulet's  tide, 
O'ershadowe'd  with  tall  grass  and  rapidly  flowing 

Around  the  lone  willow  that  stood  by  its  side,  — 
The  storm-battered  willow,  the  ivy-bound  willow,  the  water- 
washed  willow  that  grew  by  its  side." 

A  careful  examination  of  these  verses,  of  the 
half  dozen  or  more  others  written  between  1823 
and  1825,  and  of  the  dozen  or  more  written  in 
1826-27,  make  it  clear  that  Burns  had  served 
more  to  stimulate  Whittier's  imagination  than  to 
lead  him  into  special  lines  of  imitation.  There 
are  extant  a  dozen  pieces  or  so  in  the  Scotch  dia 
lect,  mostly  of  the  humorous  sort ;  but  they  were 
not  his  earliest  work  nor  his  best.  The  impel 
ling  power  and  the  range  of  thought  suggested 
may  have  come  from  Burns,  but  not  the  form, 
which  he  took  from  the  current  models  most 
accessible. 

An  imitation  of  Moore,  "  The  Exile's  Depar 
ture,"  beginning  "Farewell,  shores  of  Erin, 
green  land  of  my  Fathers,"  which  he  wrote 
June  1,  1825,  was  the  occasion  of  a  new  crisis 
in  his  life,  for  it  brought  him  into  relations  with 
William  Lloyd  Garrison,  a  boy  only  two  years 
older  than  himself,  destined  for  a  long  period  to 
be  respected  by  few  and  detested  by  many,  but 


BOYHOOD  37 

clearly  the  most  powerful  influence  acting  in 
American  public  life  between  1830  and  1850. 
Unknown  to  Whittier,  his  sister  Mary  sent  this 
poem  to  Garrison's  paper,  the  Newburyport 
"  Free  Press,"  where  it  appeared  on  June  8, 
1826,  to  his  own  huge  delight.  He  himself  then 
sent  another  piece,  in  blank  verse, "  The  Deity," 
based  on  1  Kings  xix.  11, 12,  and  that  was  printed 
with  the  following  paragraph  prefixed  :  — 

"  The  author  of  the  following  graphic  sketch, 
which  would  do  credit  to  riper  years,  is  a  youth 
of  only  sixteen,  who  we  think  bids  fair  to  prove 
another  Bernard  Barton,  of  whose  persuasion  he 
is.  His  poetry  bears  the  stamp  of  true  poetic 
genius,  which,  if  carefully  cultivated,  will  rank 
him  among  the  bards  of  his  country."  l 

Garrison  was  only  remotely  of  Essex  County 
stock.  His  grandfather  was  an  Englishman  who 
had  settled  in  New  Brunswick  and  had  married 
a  daughter  of  an  emigrant  from  the  Newbury 
port  region.  His  father  had  married  a  girl  of 
mingled  English  and  Irish  ancestry,  and  a  rov 
ing  life  had  brought  him  to  Newburyport.  The 
son  thus  represented  a  far  later  tide  of  immi 
gration  than  that  which  bore  the  Whittiers  to 
Essex  County  ;  but  he  had  the  strength  of  mind 
that  befits  a  pioneer,  and  it  fell  to  his  iron  will 
and  indomitable  energy  to  lead  a  great  moral 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  51. 


38          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

revolution.  Virtually  self-educated  and  forced 
from  childhood  to  earn  his  own  support,  he  had 
while  a  printer's  apprentice  mastered  the  mys 
teries  of  the  editor's  craft  and  trained  himself  to 
think  and  write  on  public  affairs.  His  appren 
ticeship  over,  his  unselfish  employer  helped  him 
to  start  a  rival  journal,  the  "  Free  Press,"  which 
was  to  be  neutral  in  its  politics.  Its  motto  was 
"  Our  Country,  Our  Whole  Country,  and  no 
thing  but  Our  Country,"  and  its  frankness,  hon 
esty,  and  humanity  commended  it  to  the  elder 
Whittier,  old-fashioned  anti- slavery  Quaker 
Democrat  that  he  was,  and  brought  it  at  once 
into  his  household. 

What  followed  must  be  told  in  Garrison's 
own  words :  — 

"  Going  upstairs  to  my  office  one  day,  I  ob 
served  a  letter  lying  near  the  door,  to  my  ad 
dress  ;  which,  on  opening,  I  found  to  contain  an 
original  piece  of  poetry  for  my  paper,  the  '  Free 
Press.'  The  ink  was  very  pale,  the  handwriting 
very  small ;  and,  having  at  that  time  a  horror  of 
newspaper  '  original  poetry,'  —  which  has  rather 
increased  than  diminished  with  the  lapse  of  time, 
—  my  first  impulse  was  to  tear  it  in  pieces,  with 
out  reading  it,  the  chances  of  rejection,  after  its 
perusal,  being  as  ninety-nine  to  one ;  .  .  .  but, 
summoning  resolution  to  read  it,  I  was  equally 
surprised  and  gratified  to  find  it  above  medi- 


BOYHOOD  39 

ocrity,  and  so  gave  it  a  place  in  my  journal.  .  .  . 
As  I  was  anxious  to  find  out  the  writer,  my 
post-rider  one  day  divulged  the  secret  —  stating 
that  he  had  dropped  the  letter  in  the  manner 
described,  and  that  it  was  written  by  a  Quaker 
lad,  named  Whittier,  who  was  daily  at  work  on 
the  shoemaker's  bench,  with  hammer  and  lap- 
stone,  at  East  Haverhill.  Jumping  into  a  vehi 
cle,  I  lost  no  time  in  driving  to  see  the  youthful 
rustic  bard,  who  came  into  the  room  with  shrink 
ing  diffidence,  almost  unable  to  speak,  and  blush 
ing  like  a  maiden.  Giving  him  some  words  of 
encouragement,  I  addressed  myself  more  partic 
ularly  to  his  parents,  and  urged  them  with  great 
earnestness  to  grant  him  every  possible  facility 
for  the  development  of  his  remarkable  genius.  .  .  . 
"  Almost  as  soon  as  he  could  write,  he  [Whit- 
tier]  gave  evidence  of  the  precocity  and  strength 
of  his  poetical  genius,  and  when  unable  to  pro 
cure  paper  and  ink,  a  piece  of  chalk  or  charcoal 
was  substituted.  He  indulged  his  propensity  for 
rhyming  with  so  much  secrecy  (as  his  father 
informed  us)  that  it  was  only  by  removing  some 
rubbish  in  the  garret,  where  he  had  concealed 
his  manuscripts,  that  the  discovery  was  made. 
This  bent  of  his  mind  was  discouraged  by  his 
parents:  they  were  in  indigent  circumstances, 
and  unable  to  give  him  a  suitable  education, 
and  they  did  not  wish  to  inspire  him  with  hopes 


40          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHIT  TIER 

which  might  never  be  fulfilled.  .  .  .  We  endeav 
ored  to  speak  cheeringly  of  the  prospects  of 
their  son ;  we  dwelt  upon  the  impolicy  of  war 
ring  against  nature,  of  striving  to  quench  the 
first  kindlings  of  a  flame  which  might  burn  like 
a  star  in  our  literary  horizon,  and  we  spoke,  too, 
of  fame.  '  Sir,'  replied  his  father,  with  an  emo 
tion  which  went  home  to  our  bosom  like  an 
electric  shock,  4  poetry  will  not  give  him  bread.' 
What  could  we  say?  The  fate  of  Chatterton, 
Otway,  and  the  whole  catalogue  of  those  who 
had  perished  by  neglect,  rushed  upon  our  mem 
ory,  and  we  were  silent."  l 

The  "  Free  Press  "  was  an  unsuccessful  ven 
ture  and  was  discontinued  in  September,  and 
shortly  afterwards  Garrison  left  Newburyport 
to  seek  his  fortune  in  Boston.  But  his  advice 
to  give  Whittier  an  education  was  reiterated  in 
January,  1827,  by  Abijah  W.  Thayer,  the  editor 
of  the  Haverhill  "  Gazette,"  to  which  Whittier 
had  been  sending  his  poems.  This  time  the 
father,  realizing  that  the  injury  Whittier  had  re 
ceived  prevented  his  becoming  a  robust  farmer, 
consented,  on  condition  that  the  son  should  earn 
the  means,  for  the  farm  was  mortgaged,  and 
ready  money  not  to  be  obtained  otherwise  than 
by  the  boy's  own  efforts.  A  way  lay  just  at 
hand.  Shoemaking  was  one  of  the  great  in- 
1  William  Lloyd  Garrison:  the  Story  of  his  Life,  i.  67. 


BOYHOOD  41 

dustries  of  the  county,  and  in  the  absence  of 
machinery  was  then  carried  on  more  by  home 
labor  than  by  factory  work.  Whittier  had  learned 
from  a  hired  man  on  the  farm  the  art  of  making 
slippers  of  a  certain  kind,  and  had  practised  it 
previously,  if  Garrison's  memory  be  not  at  fault ; 
at  any  rate  he  now  took  it  up  with  vigor.  One 
of  his  teachers  in  the  district  school  thus  de 
scribes  him  at  his  work : — 

"  If  my  memory  serves  me  rightly,  Mr.  Whit- 
tier,  with  others  on  the  farm,  made  shoes  in  one 
of  those  little  shops  you  see  now  at  country 
farmhouses.  I  remember  that  he  used  to  sit  on 
a  low  bench  that  had  a  little  draw  [drawer]  at 
the  side.  When  I  have  entered  the  shop  for  a 
chat  with  those  I  was  sure  to  find  there,  I  re 
member  that  often  Mr.  Whittier  would  pull  out 
the  little  draw  and  hand  me  some  loose  sheets  of 
paper,  with  the  poems  he  had  written  on  them 
during  the  day.  He  usually  offered  no  com 
ment,  but  continued  steadily  at  his  work."  l 

In  the  winter  and  spring  of  1827  the  young 
artisan  earned  enough  to  pay  his  carefully  cal 
culated  expenses  at  the  new  Haverhill  Acad 
emy,  at  the  dedication  of  which,  on  April  30, 
an  ode  of  his  composing  was  sung.  For  the 
summer  term  of  six  months  he  jubilantly  carried 

1  Moses  E.  Emerson,  quoted  in  W.  S.  Kennedy,  J.  G.  Whit- 
tier,  American  Reformers  Series,  49. 


42          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHIT  TIER 

on  his  studies,  living  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Thayer 
and  returning  to  the  farm  every  Friday  night. 
He  pursued  the  ordinary  branches,  with  the  ad 
dition  of  French,  astonishing  his  master  by  his 
excellence  in  English  composition.  He  was  a 
favorite  among  his  fellows  of  both  sexes,  who 
appreciatively  passed  his  manuscript  verses  from 
hand  to  hand.  He  now  had  for  the  first  time 
access  to  libraries,  and  revelled  in  their  contents, 
for  his  mind  had  been  hitherto  but  frugally,  not 
to  say  scantily,  fed ;  and  as  the  young  poet  of 
the  village  he  was  welcomed  and  made  much 
of  everywhere.  In  the  winter  of  1827—28  he 
replenished  his  exhausted  resources  in  a  more 
traditional  way  by  teaching  school  in  the  Birch 
Meadow  district,  now  Merrimac,  which  lies  be 
tween  his  home  and  Amesbury,  and  in  the  spring 
of  1828  returned  to  the  academy  for  another  and 
final  term.  At  its  conclusion  he  had  of  course 
only  the  rudiments  of  a  sound  education,  not  to 
be  compared  with  the  comparatively  elaborate 
equipment  of  Longfellow,  Holmes,  Lowell,  Em 
erson,  and  Thoreau.  But  he  had  found  the  way 
to  a  knowledge  of  literature  and  history,  and  he 
knew  as  much  as  many  of  the  editors  and  not  a 
few  politicians  of  his  time. 

Meanwhile  he  had  been  writing  verse  and 
prose  with  great  activity.  In  1827  and  1828 
about  a  hundred  of  his  poems  were  printed  in 


BOYHOOD  43 

the  "  Gazette,"  besides  articles  on  temperance, 
on  Robert  Burns,  and  on  war,  and  one,  in  the 
Boston  "  Philanthropist,"  on  gambling.  He  was 
still  in  the  imitative  stage,  learning  his  art 
through  a  series  of  enthusiasms  that  corre 
sponded  to  his  wider  opportunities  for  reading. 
When  he  entered  the  academy,  he  was  evidently 
a  devotee  of  Moore,  or  at  least  of  that  swelling 
and  rhetorical  verse  which  we  associate  with 
Moore's  name,  as  is  shown  by  the  ode  sung  at 
the  dedication,  beginning  "Hail,  Star  of  Sci 
ence,  come  forth  in  thy  splendor."  But  from 
about  that  time  his  style  and  choice  of  subjects 
shifted  rapidly.  Sometimes  he  imitated  Willis, 
who  was  then  attracting  attention  by  scriptural 
sketches,  sometimes  Bryant,  as  when  he  writes : 

"  Drear  place  of  dreamless  solitude !  to  thee 
Earth's  generations  pass.     The  small,  the  great, 
The  mighty  monarch  and  his  meanest  slave, 
Unceremonious  mix  their  equal  dust 
Within  thy  gloom-wrapt  mansions." 

But  his  chief  exemplar  was  certainly  Mrs. 
Hemans.  In  fdct,  she  seems  to  have  been  the 
favorite  poet  of  the  district.  Garrison  quoted 
her  verses  in  the  "  Free  Press  "  more  frequently 
than  those  of  any  one  else  ;  Thayer  in  the  "  Ga 
zette  "  had  the  ^same  habit  until  Whittier  be 
came  his  versifier  in  ordinary;  and  Whittier's 
sister,  in  a  scrap-book  of  this  period,  mingles 


44          JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHIT  TIER 

Mrs.  Hemans's  verses  with  those  written  by  her 
brother.  Whittier  followed  Mrs.  Hemans  closely 
in  style  and  subjects,  as  may  be  seen  by  the 
opening  lines  of  "Pericles  at  the  Bier  of  his 
Son":  — 

"  Stand  back  !  stand  back  !  ye  mourners  all ! 

The  father  of  the  dead 
Comes  up  the  long  resounding  hall 
With  slow  and  solemn  tread." 

What  attracted  people  in  general  in  such 
work  it  is  almost  impossible  to  understand  until 
we  put  ourselves  in  the  place  of  a  generation 
wholly  unused  to  finding  emotion  expressed  in 
poetry.  Satiated  with  didactic  and  prosaic  verse 
of  all  kinds,  and  just  beginning  to  feel  the  thrill 
of  romance  in  history,  they  turned  with  delight 
to  anybody's  versified  account  of  anything  un 
usual,  without  demanding  that  the  moral  drawn 
or  the  emotion  awakened  should  be  justified  by 
a  calm  and  rational  judgment  of  the  material 
treated.  In  those  days  the  mere  hint  of  the 
historian  was  enough  to  set  the  poet  off  at  a 
gallop.  Because  he  felt  his  heart  stir  at  a  ro 
mantic  or  pathetic  situation,  he  must  needs  try 
to  set  forth  the  picture,  the  circumstances,  and 
the  characters,  —  all,  we  see  now,  hopelessly  out 
of  keeping  with  the  facts  in  the  case  as  revealed 
by  more  analytic  and  less  impulsive  considera 
tion.  Such  was  the  taste  of  the  day,  of  which 


BOYHOOD  45 

Mrs.  Hemans  was  the  best  example,  and  to  her 
Whittier  owed  the  stimulus  for  poems  on  "  Peri 
cles  at  the  Bier  of  his  Son,"  "  Eve  at  the  Burial 
of  Abel,"  "  Moiitezuma's  Defiance  of  Cortes," 
"  Sardanapalus's  Reproof  of  his  Courtiers,"  "  The 
Death  of  Ossian,"  and  many  another. 

It  is  small  wonder  that  Whittier's  verse  was 
at  once  received  with  approbation  by  his  neigh 
bors  and  townsmen.  They  simply  recognized 
that  a  poet  had  arisen  among  them  who  met 
their  tastes,  who  touched  their  emotions.  They 
had  little  with  which  to  compare  his  verse,  and 
they  properly  gave  it  their  highest  praise.  In  the 
"  Gazette,"  January  13, 1827,  Mr.  Thayer  said :  — 

"  The  author  of  the  following  effusions,  to 
whom  we  have  before  been  indebted  for  contri 
butions  to  the  poetical  department  of  our  paper, 
we  understand  is  a  young  man  only  seventeen 
[twenty]  years  of  age,  an  apprentice  to  the 
shoemaking  business,  and  possessing  no  other 
advantages  of  education  than  are  afforded  in  the 
common  town  schools.  If  nature  or  the  '  sacred 
nine '  inspire  him  to  write  such  poetry  under  his 
present  disadvantages  we  surely  have  reason  to 
expect  much  from  him,  should  his  genius  be 
assisted  by  a  classical  education." 

On  March  17  he  returns  to  the  subject :  — 

"  His  effusions  .  .  .  indicate,  we  should  say, 
considering  his  disadvantages,  a  genius  unpar- 


46          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

alleled  among  American  poets.  Such  richness 
and  sublimity  of  language  and  brilliancy  of 
imagery  and  delicacy  of  sentiment  have  not,  we 
believe,  distinguished  any  of  the  early  produc 
tions  of  the  most  celebrated  modern  poets." 

There  was  local  blame  as  well  as  praise.  In 
the  comment  last  mentioned  Mr.  Thayer  called 
attention  to  the  fact  that  there  had  been  "  illib 
eral  criticism."  Whittier  was  said  "•  to  borrow 
largely  from  other  poets," —  as  indeed,  from  a 
broad  point  of  view,  it  was  clear  that  he  had 
done.  Mr.  Thayer  defended  him  by  declaring 
that  "  this  remark  (totally  destitute  of  founda 
tion)  doubtless  originated  with  some  of  those 
would-be  critics  who  plume  themselves  on  their 
superior  education,  derived,  probably,  from  4  a 
six-months'  sojourn  at  an  academy.'  ' 

But  if  such  criticism  left  its  sting,  Whittier 
must  have  felt  proud  of  the  uniform  approval 
which  his  verses  met  elsewhere.  Many  of  them 
appeared  in  the  Boston  "  Statesman  "  and  were 
copied  —  surest  sign  of  favor  —  into  other  jour 
nals,  far  and  near,  until  the  schoolboy  poet 
came  to  have,  even  then,  the  beginnings  of  a 
national  reputation,  such  as  Bryant  and  Percival 
had  already  achieved  and  Willis  was  rapidly 
gaining.  Under  these  circumstances  it  seemed 
wise  to  try  the  venture  of  publishing  by  sub 
scription  a  little  volume  of  his  verse,  which 


BOYHOOD  47 

might  add  to  his  growing  fame  and  contribute 
to  his  empty  purse.  In  January,  1828,  there 
fore,  Mr.  Thayer  announced  in  the  "  Gazette  " 
the  proposed  publication  of  "  The  Poems  of 
Adrian,"  a  pseudonym  often  used  by  Whittier. 
The  following  was  the  prospectus :  - 

"THE  POEMS  OF  ADKIAN.  —  Many  of  the 
poems  now  proposed  to  be  published  originally 
appeared  in  the  '  Essex  Gazette,'  and  were  very 
favorably  received  by  its  readers.  Some  of 
them  have  been  copied  into  the  most  respectable 
papers,  in  various  sections  of  the  Union,  with 
strong  expressions  of  approbation.  When  the 
circumstances  under  which  these  poems  were 
written  are  known,  they  will  be  particularly  in 
teresting.  The  author  (a  native  of  this  town) 
is  a  young  man,  about  nineteen  years  of  age, 
who  has  had,  until  very  recently,  no  other  means 
of  education  than  are  afforded  in  a  common  dis 
trict  school,  and  such  as  he  improved  in  the  lei 
sure  hours  of  an  apprenticeship  to  a  mechanical 
business.  It  is  believed  by  his  friends  that  these 
poems  indicate  genius  of  a  high  order,  which  de 
serves  all  possible  culture.  The  design  of  thus 
offering  his  juvenile  writings  to  the  public  is  to 
raise  money  to  assist  him  in  obtaining  a  classical 
education.  He  is  a  worthy  member  of  the  So 
ciety  of  Friends,  and  it  is  hoped  that  from  them 
the  volume  will  receive  a  liberal  patronage." 


48          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

The  volume  was  to  be  well  printed,  to  be 
bound  in  boards,  and  to  contain  about  two  hun 
dred  pages.  It  was  to  be  sold  for  seventy-five 
cents,  and  any  one  securing  six  subscriptions 
was  to  receive  a  seventh  copy  gratis.  Twenty- 
two  subscribers  had  already  been  secured  in 
Philadelphia.  But  the  scheme  came  to  naught, 
and  with  it  apparently  all  the  author's  hopes  of 
gaining  money  by  his  verse. 

Lyric  poetry  must  have  a  large  element  of 
autobiography,  and  in  Whittier's  schoolboy  verse 
we  find,  here  and  there,  traces  of  his  more  per 
sonal  moods.  He  feels  the  injustice  of  men,  his 
first  experience  of  the  world,  but  — 

"  Though  the  critic's  scornful  eye 

Condemn  his  faltering  lay, 
And  though  with  heartless  apathy 

The  cold  world  turn  away, 
And  envy  strive  with  secret  aim 
To  blast  and  dim  his  rising  fame," 

still  he  vowed  faithfulness  to  his  humble  muse. 
The  pangs  and  joys  of  youthful  love,  too,  were 
not  absent.  Like  his  Scottish  prototype,  or 
like  any  manly  young  New  England  farmer,  he 
was  highly  susceptible  to  the  charms  of  women, 
and  like  every  country  lad  before  or  since,  he 
was  soon  successively  in  love  with  more  than 
one  of  his  schoolmates.  Such  attachments  are 
innocent  and  natural  and  rarely  lead  to  mar 
riage,  but  with  ecstasies  come  jealousies,  and 


BOYHOOD  49 

plighted  vows  are  followed  by  remorse.  Whit- 
tier  was  a  poor  boy  and  marriage  was  out  of  the 
question ;  he  was  a  good  Quaker,  too,  and  mar 
riage  outside  of  his  sect  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.  But  these  early  loves,  —  and  one  in  particu 
lar, —  we  may  find  echoing  faintly  through  his 
later  verse  ;  in  his  verse  of  this  period  they  are 
plainly  evident,  particularly  when,  as  seems  to 
be  the  case,  Byron  gave  him  the  clue  to  a  pessi 
mistic  poetry  in  which  remorse  and  despair  go 
hand  in  hand,  and  he  sang  of  blighted  affection : 

"  Wherefore  ask  me  to  forget 
How  we  loved  and  how  we  met  ?  .  .  . 
Fare  thee  well  since  others  now 
Clothe  in  smiles  thy  winning-  brow. 
Smile  on  them,  but  thou  shalt  know 
Yet  the  deeper  stings  of  woe." 

We  must  not  leave  his  schoolboy  verses,  how 
ever,  without  referring  to  the  one  poem  of  real 
excellence  that  belongs  to  that  period,  "  The 
Song  of  the  Vermonters,"  now  included  in  the 
Appendix  to  his  poetical  works.  It  was  in 
tended,  he  said  sixty  years  later,  as  "  a  piece  of 
boyish  mystification,"  and  was  published  anony 
mously.  Copied  far  and  wide,  it  was  often  cred 
ited  to  Ethan  Allen.  No  one  with  ears  to  hear 
could  have  believed  it  to  have  been  an  eighteenth 
century  production,  but  no  one  with  the  faintest 
appreciation  of  verse  could  have  read  without  a 
stirring  of  the  blood  such  lines  as 


50          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

"  Ho —  all  to  the  borders !     Vermonters,  come  down, 
With  your  breeches  of  deerskin  and  jackets  of  brown  ; 
With  your  red  woolen  caps,  and  your  moccasins,  come, 
To  the  gathering  summons  of  trumpet  and  drum," 

or  the  spirited  stanzas  that  follow.  Here  there 
was  not  a  trace  of  Mrs.  Hemaiis  and  her  scrap- 
book  method.  In  form  it  was  purely  Byronic  ; 
but  the  young  author,  grown  wise  for  an  un 
conscious  instant,  had  seized  hold  of  the  one 
kind  of  material  that  he  could  really  handle,  — 
the  spirit  and  glory  of  New  England  and  her  love 
of  freedom.  It  was,  though  he  did  not  realize 
it,  the  first  sign  of  his  greatness. 

But  schooldays  had  come  to  an  end.  Either 
he  must  prepare  for  college  (and  he  had  little 
or  no  Latin),  and  gird  himself  for  a  long  strug 
gle  with  poverty  while  carrying  on  his  general 
or  professional  training ;  or  look  forward  to  an 
eternity  of  village  school-teaching ;  or  go  back 
to  the  farm  and  slipper-making  ;  or  try  his  for 
tune  as  an  editor.  A  chance  in  this  last  direc 
tion  seemed  to  present  itself,  late  in  1828,  when 
his  first  patron,  Garrison,  who  had  gone  from 
Newburyport  to  Boston,  and  was  editing  the 
"Philanthropist,"  suggested  to  the  publisher, 
the  Eev.  William  Collier,  that  Whittier  should 
succeed  him.  The  following  passages  from  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Thayer,  to  whom  he  naturally 
turned  for  advice,  show  his  dilemma  and  his 
ambition :  — 


BOYHOOD  51 

SHAD  PARISH,  28th  of  llth  mo.,  1828. 

FRIEND  A.  W.  THAYER,  —  I  have  been  in  a 
quandary  ever  since  I  left  thee,  whether  I  had 
better  accept  the  offer  of  Friend  Collier,  or  nail 
myself  down  to  my  seat,  —  for,  verily,  I  could 
not  be  kept  there  otherwise,  —  and  toil  for  the 
honorable  and  truly  gratifying  distinction  of 
being  considered  "  a  good  cobbler."  ...  No  — 
no  —  friend,  it  won't  do.  Thee  might  as  well 
catch  a  weasel  asleep,  or  the  Old  Enemy  of 
Mankind  in  a  parsonage-house,  as  find  me  con 
tented  with  that  distinction. 

I  have  renounced  college  for  the  good  reason 
that  I  have  no  disposition  to  humble  myself  to 
meanness  for  an  education  —  crowding  myself 
through  college  upon  the  charities  of  others,  and 
leaving  it  with  a  debt  or  an  obligation  to  weigh 
down  my  spirit  like  an  incubus,  and  paralyze 
every  exertion.  The  professions  are  already 
crowded  full  to  overflowing  —  and  I,  forsooth, 
because  I  have  a  miserable  knack  of  rhyming, 
must  swell  the  already  enormous  number,  strug 
gle  awhile  with  debt  and  difficulties,  and  then, 
weary  of  life,  go  down  to  my  original  insignifi 
cance,  where  the  tinsel  of  classical  honors  will 
but  aggravate  my  misfortune.  Verily,  friend 
Thayer,  the  picture  is  a  dark  one  —  but  from 
my  heart  I  believe  it  to  be  true.  What,  then, 
remains  for  me  ?  School-keeping  —  out  upon 


52          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

it !  The  memory  of  last  year's  experience  comes 
up  before  me  like  a  horrible  dream.  No,  I  had 
rather  be  a  tin-peddler,  and  drive  around  the 
country  with  a  bunch  of  sheepskins  hanging  to 
my  wagon.  I  had  rather  hawk  essences  from 
dwelling  to  dwelling,  or  practise  physic  between 
Colly  Hill  and  Country  Bridge  [the  most 
sparsely  settled  portion  of  the  East  Parish] . 

Seriously  —  the  situation  of  editor  of  the 
"  Philanthropist "  is  not  only  respectable,  but  it 
is  peculiarly  pleasant  to  one  who  takes  so  deep 
an  interest,  as  I  really  do,  in  the  great  cause  it 
is  laboring  to  promote.  I  would  enter  upon  my 
task  with  a  heart  free  from  misanthropy,  and 
glowing  with  that  feeling  that  wishes  well  to  all. 
I  would  rather  have  the  memory  of  a  Howard, 
a  Wilberf orce,  and  a  Clarkson  than  the  undying 
fame  of  Byron.1 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  70. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   YOUNG    JOURNALIST   AND   POLITICIAN 
1829-1832 

THUS  through  the  early  distinction  of  his  verse 
had  Whittier  been  drawn  from  the  peaceful  and 
remote  life  of  the  farm  and  the  Quaker  house 
hold  into  the  more  worldly  life  of  a  busy  little 
town.  His  ambition  aroused,  and  a  taste  for 
the  pleasures  and  profits  of  the  world  awakened, 
it  must  have  seemed  as  if  return  to  the  former 
state  would  be  almost  like  annihilation.  It  was 
apparently  with  delight,  therefore,  that  he  em 
braced  the  unexpected  opportunity  to  edit  a 
Boston  paper,  and  thus  began  a  second  brief 
cycle  in  his  career,  —  three  years  in  which  be 
tried  to  speak  the  language  and  live  the  life  of 
this  strange  outer  world,  to  cherish  its  ambi 
tions  and  enjoy  as  best  he  could  its  pleasures, 
only  in  the  end,  as  we  shall  see,  to  be  brought 
inevitably  back  to  the  quiet  rural  district  which 
had  moulded  him  and  had  already  signed  and 
sealed  him  as  its  own. 

An  editorship  was  not  then  a  post  of  great 
distinction.  Garrison,  the  editor  of  the  "  Philan- 


54          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

thropist,"  roomed  with  its  printer  at  a  boarding- 
house  kept  by  the  owner,  Collier,  a  Baptist 
"  city  missionary ;  "  and  the  paper,  noble  as  were 
its  aims  and  able  as  was  Garrison's  handling  of 
it,  was  a  mere  experiment.  As  it  turned  out,  it 
was  not  even  the  "  Philanthropist "  that  Whittier 
was  to  take  charge  of,  but  another  weekly  jour 
nal  just  established  by  the  Colliers,  the  "  Amer 
ican  Manufacturer,"  "  devoted  to  the  interests  of 
manufactures,  mechanics,  agriculture,  internal 
improvements,  literature,  education,  and  general 
intelligence."  With  volume  one,  number  14, 
January  1,  1829,  this  paper  began  to  bear  his 
name  at  the  head  of  its  editorial  columns,  Mr. 
Collier  announcing  in  the  same  issue  that  he  had 
relinquished  the  editorship  and  that  the  journal 
would  be  in  future  "conducted  by  John  G. 
Whittier,  who  is  well  known  to  the  public  as  a 
writer  of  promise." 

Whittier's  salary  was  only  nine  dollars  a 
week,  and  it  seems  to  have  been  understood  that 
he  should  board  with  his  employer.  A  large 
part  of  the  "  Manufacturer  "  was  taken  up  with 
routine  matter,  —  "  current  prices  wholesale"  and 
the  like,  —  and  Whittier's  main  duty  was  appar 
ently  the  concoction  of  a  few  editorials,  which 
were  for  a  while  of  a  sufficiently  general  character 
to  serve  equally  well  for  the  "  Philanthropist," 
then  without  an  editor.  He  salutes  the  new  year : 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         55 

"  Another  year  lias  been  chronicled  with  the 
dead.  One  portion  of  our  earthly  existence  has 
gone  by,  and  another,  big  with  unknown  events, 
is  opening  before  us."  He  contemplates  the 
thought  of  death,  he  advocates  the  cause  of  tem 
perance,  he  rebukes  infidelity.  With  better 
success  he  treats  of  the  authors  of  the  day.  In 
the  issue  of  January  8  he  has  an  article  on  the 
novels  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  "  Several  of  these 
volumes,"  he  says,  "  which  have  been  produced 
with  such  wonderful  rapidity  and  unexampled 
success,  have  in  our  opinion  a  tendency  to  sub 
vert  some  of  the  purest  principles  of  Christian 
Morality.  .  .  .  Our  sympathies  are  enlisted  fre 
quently  on  the  wrong  side,  yet  we  cannot  avoid 
it,  for  a  fascination  is  around  us,  —  the  fascina 
tion  of  glowing  narrative  and  masterly  delinea 
tion  of  character.  The  wassail-feast,  the  Bac 
chanalian  revel,  the  drunken  exploits  of  profane 
and  licentious  cavaliers,  are  described  in  a  man 
ner  ill-calculated  to  produce  a  salutary  impres 
sion  upon  the  mind." 

On  the  other  hand,  he  is  greatly  moved  by 
Croly's  "  Salathiel,"  which  has  been  recently 
revived  under  the  title,  "  Tarry  Thou  till  I 
Come  ;  "  he  quotes  liberally  from  Dana's  "  Buc 
caneer  ;  "  and  he  speaks  with  entire  approval  of 
L.  E.  L.,  then  the  darling  of  the  general  read 
ing  public  in  England :  "  She  has  laid  open  to 


56          JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHIT  TIER 

the  world  the  secrets  of  a  heart  exquisitely  alive 
to  earnest  and  clinging  affections,  with  too  much 
minuteness,  with  too  much  truth.  She  has  de 
scribed  love  as  a  wild  and  all-engrossing  passion, 
instead  of  repressing  it." 

The  "  Manufacturer  "  had  been  established  to 
further  the  interests  of  the  new  protective  tariff 
and  of  Clay's  "American  system,"  so  advan 
tageous  to  New  England  and  so  perplexing  to 
the  South.  Whittier  was  ignorant  of  political 
economy,  and  indeed  he  must  needs  have  been 
very  wise  to  have  found  his  way  through  the 
tangle  of  tariff  discussion  at  that  time.  But 
luckily  the  policy  of  the  paper  was  consonant 
with  ideas  which  had  long  been  familiar  to  him 
in  the  manufacturing  district  of  the  Merrimac 
valley,  and  it  was  natural  for  a  Quaker  to  be 
dissatisfied  with  the  warlike  Jackson  and  to  deny 
his  fitness  for  the  presidency.  As  the  weeks 
went  by,  he  grew  more  at  ease  in  his  new  func 
tion,  and  on  April  16  he  felt  himself  sufficiently 
master  of  the  situation  to  begin  a  series  of  edito 
rial  addresses  "  to  the  young  mechanics  of  New 
England :  "  "  The  person  who  now  addresses  you 
has  been  ranked  among  your  number.  Called 
to  another  sphere  of  action,  he  retains  a  sincere 
regard  for  the  welfare  of  his  former  associates  — 
those  companions  of  his  early  years,  whom  he 
is  proud  to  recognize  as  his  friends.  From  indi- 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         57 

viduals,  his  regard  is  now  extended  to  all  who 
are  included  in  that  class  of  the  community  to 
whom  this  article  is  addressed.  He  has  felt,  in 
common  with  you  all,  the  injustice  of  that  illib 
eral  feeling,  which  has  been  manifested  towards 
mechanics  by  the  wealthy  and  arrogant  of  other 
classes.  He  has  felt  his  cheek  burn,  and  his 
pulse  quicken,  when  witnessing  the  open,  undis 
guised  contempt  with  which  his  friends  have 
been  received  —  not  from  any  defect  in  their 
moral  character,  their  minds,  or  their  persons, 
but  simply  because  they  depended  upon  their 
own  exertions  for  their  means  of  existence,  and 
upon  their  own  industry  and  talents  for  a  pass 
port  to  public  favor."  In  five  addresses  of  this 
sort  the  young  editor  counselled  work,  thought, 
and  self-control  to  his  brethren  in  the  mechanic 
arts,  and  pleaded  with  them  to  renew  the  old  pre 
eminence  of  New  England  by  their  industry  and 
their  virtue. 

If  his  contract  called  only  for  prose,  he  cer 
tainly  exceeded  its  limits,  for  he  contributed  to 
the  "  Manufacturer  "  not  only  many  non-political 
poems  but  a  series  of  poetical  skits  called  "  Tar- 
iffiana,"  and  he  sent  to  the  Cincinnati  "  Ameri 
can  "  some  good  verses  on  Clay,  —  in  answer  to 
the  current  charge  that  Clay  and  Jackson  had 
united  in  a  political "  deal,"  —  which  were  widely 
circulated  during  the  ensuing  presidential  cam 
paign. 


58          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

His  editorial  duties,  however,  were  no  great 
tax  on  his  mind  or  his  time,  and  he  had  leisure 
for  reading  and  his  friends.  lie  was  in  reality, 
as  he  said  many  years  later,  a  shy  and  timid  re 
cluse,  afraid  of  a  shadow,  especially  the  shadow 
of  a  woman ;  but  he  was  bravely  endeavoring  to 
live  as  others  did  in  a  world  of  pretenses,  as  may 
be  gathered  from  letters  of  that  period :  — 

"  Here  I  have  been  all  day  trying  to  write 
something  for  my  paper,  but  what  with  habitual 
laziness,  and  a  lounge  or  two  in  the  AthenaBum 
Gallery,  I  am  altogether  unfitted  for  composi 
tion.  .  .  .  There  are  a  great  many  pretty  girls  at 
the  Athenaeum,  and  I  like  to  sit  there  and  re 
mark  upon  the  different  figures  that  go  flitting 
by  me,  like  aerial  creatures  just  stooping  down 
to  our  dull  earth,  to  take  a  view  of  the  beautiful 
creations  of  the  painter's  genius.  I  love  to  watch 
their  airy  motions,  notice  the  dark  brilliancy  of 
their  fine  eyes,  and  observe  the  delicate  flush 
stealing  over  their  cheeks,  but,  trust  me,  my 
heart  is  untouched,  —  cold  and  motionless  as  a 
Jutland  lake  lighted  up  by  the  moonshine.  I 
always  did  love  a  pretty  girl.  Heaven  grant 
there  is  no  harm  in  it !  .  .  .  Mr.  Garrison  will 
deliver  an  address  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  He 
goes  to  see  his  Dulcinea  every  other  night  al 
most,  but  is  fearful  of  being  4  shipped  off,'  after 
all,  by  her.  Lord  help  the  poor  fellow,  if  it 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         59 

happens  so.  I  like  my  business  very  well ;  but 
hang  me  if  I  like  the  people  here.  I  am  ac 
quainted  with  a  few  girls,  and  have  no  wish  to 
be  so  with  many." 

..."  I  have  become  a  notable  fellow  in  gal 
lantry  of  late ;  I  mean  old-fashioned  gallantry, 
however.  I  have  given  my  whiskers  a  more 
ferocious  appearance,  and  take  the  liberty  of 
frightening  into  good  nature  those  who  will  not 
be  complacent  of  their  own  accord/'  * 

There  were  bickerings  and  jealousies  in  the 
boarding-house  and  the  printing-house  of  the  Col 
liers,  and  Whittier  was  probably  somewhat  re 
lieved  when  in  August,  1829,  he  was  called  home 
by  the  severe  illness  of  his  father.  The  old  man 
lived  until  June,  1830,  but  upon  ^Vhittier  de 
volved  the  management  of  the  farm  and  for  the 
present  it  seemed  that  his  progress  as  an  editor 
was  barred.  Fortunately  he  was  soon  offered  the 
editorship  of  the  Haverhill  "  Gazette,"  which 
had  during  his  absence  in  Boston  reprinted  many 
of  his  poems ;  had  praised  his  articles  in  the  "  Man 
ufacturer," —  which  reveal  "all  the  warmth  of 
language  and  richness  of  imagination  "  so  pecul 
iarly  characteristic  of  its  editor's  mind ;  had  set 
him  as  a  poet  and  a  man  above  Willis,  who  was 
still  growing  in  popular  favor ;  and  had  quoted 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  93. 

*  Pickard,  Life,  i.  78,  note. 


60          JOHN  GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

from  the  Philadelphia  "Ladies'  Literary  Ga 
zette."  an  "Ode  to  J.  G.  Whittier,"  signed 
Henrique ta,  declaring  that  "  tliou  art  one  whom 
aftertime  shall  hallow  with  its  fame." 

For  the  first  six  months  of  1830  Whittier  ed 
ited  the  "  Gazette."  It  was  a  weekly  sheet,  con 
taining  but  little  original  matter,  and  his  duties 
did  not  interfere  with  his  residence  on  the  farm 
or  his  labors  there.  Once,  indeed,  he  announced 
that  "the  Editor,  being  unexpectedly  absent 
during  the  whole  of  the  present  week,  was  of 
course  unable  to  attend  to  this  number  of  the 
4  Gazette.'  "  His  poetical  contributions  appeared 
with  frequency,  and  his  political  editorials  were 
serious  and  sensible,  though  noticeably  less  en 
thusiastic  than  those  he  wrote  for  the  "  Manu 
facturer."  The  most  characteristic  was  that  of 
March  20,  which  praised  "  the  bold  and  rich  elo 
quence  "  of  an  article  in  the  "  New  England  Re 
view  "  on  New  England  military  heroes,  and  went 
on  to  laud  New  England  as  "the  native  home 
of  the  intellect "  and  as  noble  through  her  mani 
festations  of  moral  power,  her  free  institutions, 
and  her  religion. 

This  praise  of  the  "  New  England  Review," 
of  Hartford,  Conn.,  was  synchronous  with  certain 
contributions  to  it,  and  with  an  epistolary  friend 
ship  with  its  editor,  George  D.  Prentice,  a  dash 
ing  young  fellow,  quite  the  opposite  of  Whittier, 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         61 

as  was  apparent  from  his  later  career  as  editor 
of  the  Louisville  "  Journal,"  but  at  that  period 
probably  Whittier's  ideal  of  what  a  successful 
journalist  and  politician  ought  to  be.  They  had 
never  met,  but  Prentice  wrote  thus  to  him,  in  the 
braggadocio  style  of  the  time,  after  describing 
how  he  stole  a  kiss  from  a  young  poetess  :  — 

"  Whittier,  I  wish  you  were  seated  by  my 
side,  for  I  assure  you  that  my  situation,  just 
now,  is  very  much  to  my  particular  satisfaction. 
Here  am  I  in  my  hotel,  with  a  good-natured  fire 
in  front  of  me,  and  a  bottle  of  champagne  at  my 
left  hand.  Can  you  imagine  a  situation  more 
to  a  good  fellow's  mind?  .  .  .  Then  you  have 
more  imagination  than  judgment.  .  .  .  The 
gods  be  praised  that  I  am  not  a  member  of  the 
temperance  society  ! 

"  Would  to  fortune  I  could  come  to  Haverhill 
before  my  return  to  Hartford  —  but  the  thing  is 
impossible.  I  am  running  short  both  of  time 
and  money.  Well,  we  can  live  on  and  love,  as 
we  have  done.  Once  or  twice  I  have  even 
thought  that  my  feelings  towards  you  had  more 
of  romance  in  them  than  they  possibly  could 
have  if  we  were  acquainted  with  each  other.  I 
never  yet  met  for  the  first  time  with  a  person 
whose  name  I  had  learned  to  revere,  without 
feeling;  on  the  instant  that  the  beautiful  veil 

O 

with  which  my  imagination  had  robed  him  was 


62          JOHN  GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

partially  rent  away.  If  you  cannot  explain  this 
matter,  you  are  no  philosopher."  1 

The  "  New  England  Review "  was  a  Clay 
paper,  and  Prentice's  slashing  articles  attracted 
so  much  attention  that  he  was  asked  to  go  to 
Kentucky  for  the  purpose  of  writing  a  biography 
of  Clay,  which  was  needed  for  the  coming  presi 
dential  campaign.  Prentice  recommended  that 
Whittier  take  his  place  on  the  "  Keview,"  and 
a  proposal  to  this  effect  was  made  by  the  own 
ers,  who  offered  a  salary  of  five  hundred  dollars 
a  year.  It  was  accepted  by  Whittier,  and  in 
July,  1830,  he  began  his  new  duties  at  Hartford, 
thus  heralded  by  his  predecessor  in  his  valedic 
tory  address  :  — 

"  I  cannot  do  less  than  congratulate  my  read 
ers  on  the  prospect  of  their  more  familiar  ac 
quaintance  with  a  gentleman  of  such  powerful 
energies  and  such  exalted  purity  and  sweetness 
of  character.  I  have  made  some  enemies  among 
those  whose  good  opinion  I  value,  but  no  rational 
man  can  ever  be  the  enemy  of  Mr.  Whittier." 

The  verses  and  tales  which  Whittier  contrib 
uted  to  the  "  Review  "  we  must  reserve  for  later 
consideration.  Our  business  now  lies  with  his 
success  in  his  profession.  On  the  "Manufac 
turer  "  he  had  been  a  novice  ;  on  the  "  Gazette  " 
he  had  through  experience  learned  confidence ; 
1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  80. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN        63 

but  both  positions  were  narrow  and  inconspic 
uous  compared  with  that  which  he  now  held. 
Here  his  editorials  were  excellent :  they  showed 
the  crude  sectionalism  of  the  time,  but  they 
were  dignified  and  vigorous.  He  praised  Web 
ster's  rebuke  to  nullification :  "  Last  session  of 
Congress  was  a  proud  one  for  New  England  — 
for  the  whole  country.  The  North  was  assailed 
with  the  usual  bitterness  —  but  not  as  usual  with 
impunity.  A  giant  was  called  up  —  one  who 
had  borne  until  forbearance  was  not  longer  his 

O 

duty.  He  shook  himself  free  of  sectional  pre 
judices  ;  and  he  spoke  for  the  whole  country  — 
for  posterity."  He  upheld  the  tariff :  "  New 
England  has  within  herself  resources  —  springs 
of  wealth  and  incentive  to  enterprise."  The 
party  should  therefore  rally  around  Clay,  "  who 
has  sustained  with  a  giant's  strength  the  best 
interests  of  the  country."  .  .  .  The  South  is 
merely  jealous  of  the  North  ;  she  is  really  bene 
fited  by  the  tariff  of  abominations  on  account 
of  the  increase  of  ten  per  cent  in  the  value  of 
agricultural  products."  He  bewailed  the  cor 
rupt  administration  and  lauded  "  the  upright  and 
unbending  politician  —  the  eloquent  and  soul- 
reaching  orator  —  the  dignified  statesman  —  the 
accomplished  gentleman  —  the  unwavering  ad 
vocate  of  the  people  —  Henry  Clay.  To  him 
we  look  for  our  political  redemption ;  to  him  we 


64          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

turn  in  this  dark  day  of  our  national  existence, 
with  a  strong  hope  and  an  earnest  confidence." 

It  must  be  borne  clearly  in  mind  that  at  this 
period  Whittier  was  merely  a  young  New  England 
journalist,  a  journalist  of  austere  breeding  and 
with  a  tendency  toward  philanthropy,  but  not  by 
any  means  yet  a  reformer.  A  private  letter  of  the 
period  shows  that  he  was  far  from  being  ready 
to  take  up  the  cause  of  the  slave,  whom  he  some 
times  regarded  rather  as  a  nuisance  than  as  an 
oppressed  creature ;  and  in  his  contributions  to 
his  paper,  though  he  praised  Garrison's  stand 
in  the  matter  of  abolition,  he  did  not  himself 
appear  to  take  any  greater  interest  in  this  re 
form  than  in  others.  His  attitude  was  well  ex 
pressed  in  an  editorial  of  September  20,  1830 : 
"  I  shall  endeavor  to  aid  the  cause  of  morality 
and  national  religion.  A  moral  revolution  is 
going  on  around  us  —  the  voice  of  public  opinion 
is  growing  louder,  and  already  the  strongholds 
of  Vice  are  shaking  to  its  responses,  like  the 
walls  of  Jericho  to  the  sound  of  the  trumpet. 
I  shall  seek  to  promote  this  glorious  revolution. 
I  trust  I  shall  never  so  far  prostitute  the  intel 
lect  which  God  has  given  me,  as  to  become  the 
apologist  of  immorality  and  irreligion,  whatever 
shape  they  may  assume,  or  under  whatever  name 
they  may  appear." 

In  March,  1831,  Whittier  was  called  back  to 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN        65 

Haverkill  to  assist  in  the  settlement  of  his  fa 
ther's  estate,  and  while  there  fell  ill.  He  con 
ducted  the  "  Review "  from  this  distance  for 
some  time,  returned  for  a  brief  period  to  Hart 
ford,  and  then  went  back  to  the  farm,  resigning 
his  editorship  with  the  end  of  1831. 

His  experience  in  Hartford  had  been  stimulat 
ing  and  valuable  in  every  way.  In  Boston  he 
had  been  at  a  disadvantage.  He  was  connected 
with  an  obscure  paper  and  associated,  to  a  great 
degree,  with  obscure  people.  His  reputation  as 
a  poet,  already  considerable,  would  have  enabled 
him  eventually  to  make  better  connections,1  but 
the  time  of  his  sojourn  was  too  short.  In  Hart 
ford  he  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  well- 
established  and  somewhat  distinguished  journal, 
and  was  at  once  received  into  a  compact  and 
brilliant  society  with  strong  literary  interests. 
The  memory  of  the  Hartford  Wits  still  lingered, 
and  a  new  circle,  composed  of  men  and  women 
of  solid  acquirements  and  genuine  attractiveness, 
had  gathered  up  around  Percival,  Brainard,  and 

1  "  At  that  time,  1826,  Boston  was  notoriously  the  literary 
metropolis  of  the  Union  —  the  admitted  Athens  of  America. 
.  .  .  Society  was  strongly  impressed  with  literary  tastes ;  gen 
ius  was  respected  and  cherished  :  a  man,  in  those  days,  who 
had  achieved  literary  fame,  was  at  least  equal  to  the  president 
of  a  bank,  or  a  treasurer  of  a  manufacturing  company."  — 
S.  G.  Goodrich,  Recollections  of  a  Lifetime,  Letter  45. 


66          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Mrs.  Sigourney.1  He  met  the  chief  men  of  his 
party,  he  visited  New  York  on  a  confidential 
political  errand,  and  there  became  acquainted 
with  brother  editors  of  larger  fame  and  respon 
sibility  ;  in  short,  he  grew  rapidly  as  a  man, 
under  these  favorable  influences,  and  advanced 
rapidly  in  professional  reputation. 

Among  the  young  women  of  this  charming 
circle  he  was  particularly  impressed  by  Miss  Cor 
nelia  Russ,  daughter  of  Judge  Russ,  with  whose 
household  he  was  on  intimate  terms.  When 

1  "  It  was,  I  believe,  through  Mr.  Wadsworth's  influence  that 
Miss  Huntley,  now  Mrs.  Sigourney,  was  induced  to  leave  her 
home  in  Norwich,  and  make  Hartford  her  residence.  This 
occurred  about  the  year  1814.  Noiselessly  and  gracefully  she 
glided  into  our  young  social  circle,  and  ere  long  was  its  presid 
ing  genius.  I  shall  not  write  her  history,  nor  dilate  upon  her 
literary  career  —  for  who  does  not  know  them  both  by  heart  ? 
Yet  I  may  note  her  influence  in  this  new  relation  —  a  part  of 
which  fell  upon  myself.  Mingling  in  the  gayeties  of  our  social 
gatherings,  and  in  no  respect  clouding  their  festivity,  she  led 
us  all  toward  intellectual  pursuits  and  amusements.  We  had 
even  a  literary  cotery  under  her  inspiration,  its  first  meetings 
being  held  at  Mr.  Wadsworth's.  I  believe  one  of  my  earliest 
attempts  at  composition  was  made  here.  The  ripples  thus  be 
gun  extended  over  the  whole  surface  of  our  young  society, 
producing  a  lasting  and  refining  effect.  It  could  not  but  be 
beneficial  thus  to  mingle  in  intercourse  with  one  who  has  the 
angelic  faculty  of  seeing  poetry  in  all  things,  and  good  every 
where.  Few  persons  living  have  exercised  a  wider  influence 
than  Mrs.  Sigourney  ;  no  one  that  I  now  know  can  look  back 
upon  a  long  and  earnest  career  of  such  unblemished  benefi 
cence."  —  S.  G.  Goodrich,  Recollections  of  a  Lifetime,  Letter 
37. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN        67 

about  to  leave  Hartford,  he  addressed  her  in  the 
following  letter,1  in  which  admiration  and  caution 
are  oddly  mingled  :  — 

Thursday  Afternoon. 

Miss  Russ,  —  I  could  not  leave  town  without 
asking  an  interview  with  you.  I  know  that  my 
proposal  is  abrupt  —  and  I  cannot  but  fear  that 
it  will  be  unwelcome.  But  you  will  pardon  me. 
About  to  leave  Hartford  for  a  distant  part  of 
the  country,  I  have  ventured  to  make  a  demand 
for  which,  under  any  other  circumstances,  I 
should  be  justly  censurable.  I  feel  that  I  have 
indeed  no  claims  on  your  regard.  But  I  would 
hope,  almost  against  any  evidence  to  the  con 
trary,  that  you  might  not  altogether  discourage 
a  feeling  which  has  long  been  to  me  as  a  new 
existence.  I  would  hope  that  in  my  absence 
from  my  own  New  England,  whether  in  the 
sunny  South  or  the  "Far  West,"  one  heart  would 
respond  with  my  own  —  one  bright  eye  grow 
brighter  at  the  mention  of  a  —  name,  which  has 
never  been,  and  I  trust  never  will  be,  connected 
with  dishonor,  —  and  which,  if  the  Ambition 
which  now  urges  onward  shall  continue  in  vigor 
ous  exercise,  shall  yet  be  known  widely  and  well 
—  and  whose  influence  shall  be  lastingly  felt.  — 

But  this  is  dreaming,  —  and  it  may  only  call 

1  Published  by  Professor  W.  L.  Phelps,  in  the  Century 
Magazine,  May,  1902. 


68          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

forth  a  smile.  If  so  —  I  have  too  high  an  opin 
ion  of  your  honorable  feelings  to  suppose  even 
for  a  moment  that  you  would  make  any  use  of 
your  advantage  derogatory  to  the  character  of  a 
high-minded,  and  ingenuous  girl 

—  I  leave  town  on  Saturday.  Can  you  allow 
an  interview  this  evening  or  on  that  of  Friday  ? 
If  however  you  cannot  consistently  afford  me  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  —  I  have  only  to  resign 
hopes  dear  to  me  as  life  itself,  and  carry  with  me 
hereafter  the  curse  of  disappointed  feeling. — 

A  note  in  answer  will  be   waited  for  impa 
tiently.     At  least  you  will  not  deny  me  this. 
Yrs.  most  truly  — 

J.  G.  WHITTIER. 

The  reply  to  this  epistle  has  not  been  pre 
served,  but  it  was  certainly  a  negative  one.  This 
love  of  Whittier's  was  not  his  first  nor  was  it 
destined  to  be  the  last.  Handsome  in  person, 
sensitive  in  nature,  he  craved  the  sympathy  and 
affectionate  companionship  that  woman  gives 
best,  and  this  failure  to  establish  a  connection 
which  esteem  and  admiration  dictated,  and  which 
would  have  made  permanent  his  relations  with 
a  social  circle  so  pleasing,  was  another  of  the 
disappointments  that  now  overwhelmed  him. 

On  his  return  to  Haverhill  Whittier  may  well 
have  felt  in  despair.  Various  plans,  one  of  going 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         G9 

to  the  West,  and  another  of  attending  as  a  dele 
gate  a  convention  of  the  National  Republican 
party  at  Baltimore,  which  was  to  nominate  Clay 
for  the  presidency,  had  to  be  given  up  on  account 
of  illness.  A  rejected  lover,  cut  off  from  a  com 
munity  from  which  he  had  been  so  much  the 
gainer,  and  in  which  he  had  doubtless  expected 
to  settle  permanently,  he  was  prevented  by  con 
tinued  ill  health  from  following  his  chosen  profes 
sion  or  from  engaging  in  any  other.  No  wonder 
he  spoke  of  himself  as  half  sick,  half  mad.  The 
old  farm  which  he  had  left  so  lightly  became 
then  a  sure  refuge,  and  he  took  up,  so  far  as  he 
was  able,  his  old  duties,  while  determining  on 
his  future  course.  His  letters,  often  couched  in 
the  jaunty  style  which  characterized  his  corre 
spondence  at  that  period,  reveal  his  melancholy 
and  the  new  turn  which  his  ambitions  were  to 
take.  On  January  5,  1832,  he  wrote  as  follows 
to  his  friend  Jonathan  Law  of  Hartford :  — 

"  Well,  I  have  written,  —  or  am  going  to,  — 
being  the  third  time  in  which  I  have  actually 
written  to  you  since  I  left  Hartford,  and  delayed 
because  I  expected  to  be  the  bearer  of  my  own 
epistle.  I  have  been  at  home  —  that  is  to  say, 
in  this  vicinity  —  all  the  time,  —  half  sick,  half 
mad.  For  the  last  fortnight  I  have  been  kept 
close,.  Mr.  Barnard  has  doubtless  told  you  that 
I  started  for  Hartford  about  three  or  four  weeks 


70          JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHITTIER 

since,  and  was  obliged  to  return.  Now  you  may 
suppose  that  I  have  got  the  '  hypo.'  No  such 
thing.  It  is  all  as  real  as  the  nose  on  my  face, 
this  illness  of  mine,  —  alas,  too  real.  Nor  am  I 
under  the  cerulean  influence  of  the  blue  devils 
now.  The  last  blue-visaged  imp  has  departed 
with  my  exorcism  ringing  in  his  ears  — '  Con- 
juro  te,  sceleratissime,  abire  ad  tuum  locum.' 
But  nonsense  apart,  my  dear  sir,  what  shadows 
we  are,  and  what  shadows  we  pursue !  We  start 
vigorously  forward  with  something  for  our  object 
—  up,  up,  among  the  very  clouds ;  we  toil  on, 
we  sacrifice  present  ease  and  present  happiness  ; 
we  turn  from  real  blessings  to  picture  future 
ones  —  unsubstantial  as  the  fabric  of  the  summer 
cloud  or  the  morning  mist.  We  press  on  for  a 
time,  the  overtaxed  nerves  relax  from  their  first 
strong  tension,  until  the  mysterious  machinery 
of  our  existence  is  shattered  and  impeded,  until 
the  mind  realizes  that,  chained  down  to  material 
grossness,  and  clogged  with  a  distempered  and 
decaying  mortality,  it  cannot  rise  to  heaven. 
Perhaps  it  is  well  —  indeed  we  know  it  is  —  that 
this  should  be  the  end  of  human  ambition.  But, 
oh,  how  humiliating  to  the  vanity  of  our  nature ! 
"  Now,  don't  imagine  for  one  moment  that  I 
have  become  morose  and  melancholy.  Far  from 
it.  I  am  among  anxious  friends.  I  have  a 
thousand  sources  of  enjoyment,  even  in  the 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         71 

midst  of  corporeal  suffering.  I  have  an  excel 
lent  society  here  to  visit  and  receive  visits  from, 
—  my  early  companions  and  those  who  have 
grown  up  with  me,  who  have  known  me  long 
and  well.  I  have  spent  some  time  in  Boston, 
Salem,  Marblehead,  Audover,  etc.,  among  'brave 
men  and  fair  women  ; '  have  dabbled  somewhat 
in  local  politics,  and  am  extensively  popular  just 
now  on  that  account.  The  girls  here  are  nice 
specimens  of  what  girls  should  be.  You  will 
find  a  description  of  one  or  two  of  them  in  a 
poem  which  I  shall  send  you  in  a  few  weeks, 
perhaps  in  less  time,  —  a  poem  partly  written  at 
your  house,  and  which  is  being  published.  It 
lay  around  in  fragments,  staring  me  everywhere 
in  the  face,  and  at  last,  to  get  rid  of  it,  I  have 
given  it  over  to  the  bookmakers.  They  will  have 
a  hard  bargain  of  it. 

"  Decency  forgive  me !  I  've  filled  up  two 
pages  with  that  most  aristocratic  little  pronoun 
which  represents  the  writer  of  this  epistle.  Mis 
ery  makes  a  man  an  egotist,  the  world  over." 

A  month  later,  February  2, 1832,  he  writes  to 
Mrs.  Sigourney :  — 

"  The  truth  is,  I  love  poetry,  with  a  love  as 
warm,  as  fervent,  as  sincere,  as  any  of  the  more 
gifted  worshippers  at  the  temple  of  the  Muses. 
I  consider  its  gift  as  something  holy  and  above 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  97. 


72          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

the  fashion  of  the  world.  In  the  language  of 
Francis  Bacon,  '  The  Muses  are  in  league  with 
Time,'  —  which  spares  their  productions  in  its 
work  of  universal  desolation.  But  I  feel  and 
know  that 

'  To  other  chords  than  mine  belong 
The  breathing  of  immortal  song.' 

And  in  consequence,  I  have  been  compelled  to 
trust  to  other  and  less  pleasant  pursuits  for  dis 
tinction  and  profit.  Politics  is  the  only  field 
now  open  for  me,  and  there  is  something  incon 
sistent  in  the  character  of  a  poet  and  modern 
politician.  People  of  the  present  day  seem  to 
have  ideas  similar  to  those  of  that  old  churl  of 
a  Plato,  who  was  for  banishing  all  poets  from 
his  perfect  republic. 

"  Did  you  ever  read  these  lines  from  Halleck  ? 

*  But  when  the  grass  grows  green  above  me, 
And  those  who  know  me  now  and  love  me 

Are  sleeping  by  my  side, 
Will  it  avail  me  aught  that  men 
Tell  to  the  world  with  lip  and  pen 

That  I  have  lived  and  died  ?  — 
No  ;  if  a  garland  for  my  brow 
Is  growing,  let  me  have  it  now, 

While  I  'm  alive  to  wear  it ; 
And  if  in  whispering  my  name 
There  's  music  in  the  voice  of  fame, 

Like  Garcia,  let  me  hear  it ! ' 

Now  I  feel  precisely  so.  I  would  have  fame 
with  me  now,  —  or  not  at  all.  I  would  not 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         73 

choose  between  a  nettle  or  a  rose  to  grow  over 
my  grave.  If  I  am  worthy  of  fame,  I  would  ask 
it  now,  —  now  in  the  springtime  of  my  years ; 
when  I  might  share  its  smile  with  the  friends 
whom  I  love,  and  by  whom  I  am  loved  in  return. 
But  who  would  ask  a  niche  in  that  temple  where 
the  dead  alone  are  crowned ;  where  the  green  and 
living  garland  waves  in  ghastly  contrast  over  the 
pale  cold  brow  and  the  visionless  eye  ;  and  where 
the  chant  of  praise  and  the  voice  of  adulation 
fall  only  on  the  deafened  ear  of  Death  ?"  1 
To  Mr.  Law  again  in  September,  1832  :  — 
"  Even  if  my  health  was  restored  I  should  not 
leave  this  place.  I  have  too  many  friends  around 
me,  and  my  prospects  are  too  good  to  be  sacri 
ficed  for  any  uncertainty.  I  have  done  with 
poetry  and  literature.  I  can  live  as  a  farmer, 
and  that  is  all  I  ask  at  present.  I  wish  you  could 
make  me  a  visit,  you  and  Mrs.  Law ;  our  situa 
tion  is  romantic  enough,  —  out  of  the  din  and 
bustle  of  the  village,  with  a  long  range  of  green 
hills  stretching  away  to  the  river  ;  a  brook  goes 
brawling  at  their  foot,  overshadowed  with  trees, 
through  which  the  white  walls  of  our  house  are 

O 

just  visible.     In  truth,  I  am  as  comfortable  as 
one  can  well  be,  always  excepting  ill  health."  2 
And  to  Mrs.  Sigourney  in  January,  1833  :  — 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  101. 

2  Pickard,  Life,  i.  117. 


74          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  Mrs.  S.,  you  will  not  attrib 
ute  my  neglect  to  answer  your  letter,  and  to 
acknowledge  my  obligations  for  the  beautiful 
notice  of  Brainard,  to  anything  like  disregard 
on  my  part.  All  my  friends  are  complaining  of 
me  for  not  answering  their  letters.  Continued 
ill  health  and  natural  indolence,  and  the  daily 
duties  of  a  large  farm,  must  be  my  excuse.  Of 
poetry  I  have  nearly  taken  my  leave,  and  a  pen 
is  getting  to  be  something  of  a  stranger  to  me. 
I  have  been  compelled  again  to  plunge  into  the 
political  whirlpool,  for  I  have  found  that  my 
political  reputation  is  more  influential  than  my 
poetical ;  so  I  try  to  make  myself  a  man  of  the 
world  —  and  the  public  are  deceived,  but  I  am 
not.  They  do  not  see  that  I  have  thrown  the 
rough  armor  of  rude  and  turbulent  controversy 
over  a  keenly  sensitive  bosom,  —  a  heart  of  softer 
and  gentler  emotions  than  I  dare  expose.  Ac 
cordingly,  as  Governor  Hamilton  of  South  Caro 
lina  says,  I  have  '  put  on  athletic  habits  for  the 
occasion.'  "  l 

It  was  to  political  life  that  his  ambition  had 
plainly  been  tending  for  more  than  a  year.  The 
prospects  that  were  "  too  good  to  be  sacrificed 
for  any  uncertainty  "  were  those  of  being  sent 
to  Congress.  The  situation  was  this.  Caleb 
Cushing  had  been  trying  since  1826  to  secure 
1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  113. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         75 

election  to  Congress  as  the  representative  of  the 
North  Essex  District;  but  though  the  Whigs 
were  usually  in  the  majority,  his  enemies  in  his 
own  party  defeated  his  purposes  until  1834.  As 
success  then  depended  upon  majority  and  not 
mere  plurality,  there  were  seventeen  congres 
sional  elections  in  the  district  between  1831  and 
1833,  all  without  avail.  Mr.  Gushing  was  will 
ing  to  transfer  the  candidacy  for  the  present  to 
some  person  well  disposed  to  him  who  could 
unite  the  party  factions.  Whittier's  friend  Ed 
win  Harriman  was  then  editing  the  Haverhill 
"  Iris,"  to  which  Whittier  often  contributed  ar 
ticles  and  poems,  and  he  was  interested  in  a  pro 
ject  by  which  Whittier  should  slip  into  Con 
gress  in  dishing' s  place.  The  following  letter 
to  him,  written  probably  in  August,  1832,  will 
show  Whittier's  desire  for  political  success  and 
the  lengths  to  which  he  was  willing  to  go  to 
secure  it.  It  was  plain  that  he  wished  his  friends 
to  understand  that  they  would  be  the  gainers  by 
helping  him,  and  that  the  success  of  his  plan  for 
preventing  an  election  in  November  depended 
to  some  degree  upon  his  relations  with  his  old 
patron  Mr.  Thayer,  the  editor  of  the  "  Gazette," 
who  was  an  anti-Cushing  man,  and  upon  the 
possibility  of  throwing  dust  in  the  eyes  of  both 
factions. 

"  Since  conversing  with  you  yesterday,  a  new 


76          JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHITTIER 

objection  to  our  project  has  occurred  to  me : 
the  Constitution  requires  that  the  representa 
tive  shall  be  twenty-five  years  of  age.  I  shall 
not  be  twenty-five  till  the  17th  of  December.  So 
that  I  would  not  be  eligible  at  the  next  trial  in 
November.  This,  you  will  see,  gives  a  different 
aspect  to  the  whole  affair.  Perhaps,  however, 
if  the  contest  is  prolonged  till  after  the  next 
time,  the  project  might  be  put  in  execution. 

"  Suppose  you  advocate  a  holding  on  to  Mr. 
C.  in  your  Newburyport  letter?  Suppose,  too, 
that  you  nominate  in  your  paper  Mr.  Gushing 
without  any  one-sided  convention?  After  the 
trial  in  November,  you  can  then  use  the  argu 
ments  in  favor  of  our  plan  which  you  propose  to 
do  now ;  and  if  it  suits  Mr.  C.  he  can  then  re 
quest  his  friends  to  give  their  votes  for  some 
other  individual  for  the  sake  of  promoting  peace 
in  the  district.  The  Kittredge  committee  would 
in  that  case  probably  nominate  a  candidate,  —  if 
one  could  be  found,  —  but,  I  understand  Mr. 
Thayer,  not  with  the  expectation  of  his  being 
elected. 

"  If  I  were  nominated  after  the  November 
trial,  Mr.  Thayer,  situated  as  he  and  I  relatively 
are,  would  support  the  nomination,  and  let  the 
other  candidate  go,  as  he  did  John  Merrill. 
Purdy,  the  '  Telegraph,'  and  the  4  Essex  Regis 
ter  '  would  do  the  same. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN        77 

"  The  truth  of  the  matter  is,  the  thing  would 
be  peculiarly  beneficial  to  me,  —  if  not  at  home 
it  would  be  so  abroad.  It  would  give  me  an  op 
portunity  of  seeing  and  knowing  our  public  char 
acters,  and  in  case  of  Mr.  Clay's  election  might 
enable  me  to  do  something  for  myself  or  my 
friends.  It  would  be  worth  more  to  me  now, 
young  as  I  am,  than  almost  any  office  after  I  had 
reached  the  meridian  of  life. 

"  In  this  matter,  if  I  know  my  own  heart,  I 
am  not  entirely  selfish.  I  never  yet  deserted  a 
friend,  and  I  never  will.  If  my  friends  enable 
me  to  acquire  influence,  it  shall  be  exerted  for 
their  benefit.  And  give  me  once  an  opportunity 
of  exercising  it,  my  first  object  shall  be  to  evince 
my  gratitude  by  exertions  in  behalf  of  those  who 
had  conferred  such  a  favor  upon  me. 

"  If  you  write  to  Newburyport  to-day,  you  can 
say  that  we  are  willing  and  ready  to  do  all 'we 
can  at  the  next  trial;  say,  too,  that  the  Kit- 
tredge  folks  will  scarcely  find  a  candidate,  and 
that  there  may  be  a  chance  for  Gushing  better 
than  he  has  yet  had;  that  at  all  events  it  can 
do  no  harm  ;  and  that  if  after  that  trial  Mr.  0. 
sees  fit  to  request  his  friends  not  to  vote  for 
him  for  the  22d  Congress,  there  will  be  as  good 
a  chance  then  of  electing  a  dishing  man  as 
there  is  now.  Say,  too,  if  you  please,  that  I  am 
ready  to  go  on  with  the  contest,  and  you  had 


78          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

better  recommend  mildness   in   the  process   of 
electioneering."  l 

The  scheme  fell  through,  but  the  fact  re 
mained  that  the  men  of  the  neighborhood  had 
faith  in  him  and  were  willing  to  follow  his  lead 
ership.  His  experience  in  another  state,  his 
power  and  reputation  as  a  writer,  his  alert  intel 
ligence  and  shrewdness  in  affairs,  his  strong 
principles,  not  only  made  him  a  power  in  his  dis 
trict  but  pointed  to  his  advancement.  It  was  at 
this  juncture  that,  in  1833,  when  fortune  seemed 
again  smiling  on  his  efforts,  his  conscience  led 
him  to  ally  himself  definitely  with  the  then 
unpopular  abolitionists  and  thus  to  open  for 
himself  a  career  as  a  reformer  rather  than  as  a 
politician. 

We  must  now  turn  aside  from  Whittier's 
work  as  a  professional  journalist  to  see  what 
progress  he  was  making  in  the  art  which  was 
most  to  distinguish  him  thereafter.  Throughout 
these  years  of  changing  ideals  and  renewed  dis 
appointment  he  had  been  contributing  verse  or 
narrative  prose,  almost  every  week,  to  the  papers 
that  he  was  editing,  as  well  as  sending  much  to 
other  periodicals.  The  verse  was  greatly  in  ex 
cess  of  the  prose,  but  the  latter  was  by  no  means 
inconsiderable.  It  must  be  remembered  that  at 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  168. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         79 

this  time  Whittier's  instinct  led  him  to  prose  as 
well  as  to  verse ;  he  was  not  yet  able  to  determine 
which  was  his  distinctive  medium,  nor  was  he 
yet  sure  of  the  special  forms,  whether  of  prose 
or  verse,  of  which  he  could  best  prove  himself 
the  master,  or  of  the  material  which  he  could 
best  use.  In  this  period  of  experiment  all  that 
he  knew  was  that  he  must  write  what  his  heart 
bade  him.  Just  as  Garrison,  out  of  his  passiou 
for  reform,  allied  himself  with  many  an  untimely 
movement,  somewhat  to  the  immediate  detriment 
of  the  cause  he  had  most  at  heart,  so  Whittier,  in 
his  passion  for  literary  expression,  was  naturally 
drawn  into  several  kinds  of  writing  which  proved 
to  be  wholly  out  of  accord  with  his  genius. 

The  least  successful  sort  of  prose  which  Whit- 
tier  undertook  to  compose  in  these  years  was 
the  half-humorous,  reflective  sketch,  long  in 
popular  favor,  from  Addisoii  and  Steele  down, 
in  which  the  eccentric  philosopher  puts  forth  his 
whims  and  fancies.  To  this  class  belongs  Whit- 
tier's  "The  Nervous  Man,"  published  in  the 
"  New  England  Magazine,"  in  1832  and  1833, 
in  which  with  much  affected  learning  and  with 
a  jauntiness  of  style  wholly  consonant  with  some 
of  his  letters  of  that  period,  he  quotes  Rubius 
Celer  and  Reginald  Scot,  and  discourses  on  By 
ron,  coquettes  of  both  sexes,  and  a  multitude  of 
trivialities.  To  successful  composition  of  this 


80          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 
i 

sort  real  wisdom  and  experience  in  the  world  of 
men  and  of  ideas  are  necessary,  and  in  such 
qualities,  Whittier,  bred  in  seclusion  and  mea 
grely  educated,  was  but  a  babe. 

Equally  unsuccessful  was  Whittier's  attempt, 
characteristic  of  the  time,  to  embody  moral 
lessons  in  narrative.  We  have  already  referred 
to  "The  Gamester,"  published  in  1827,  in  the 
"  Philanthropist,"  in  which  he  set  forth  the  sin 
of  gambling.  In  "  Henry  St.  Clair,"  printed  in 
1830  in  the  "  New  England  Review,"  the  villain 
took  to  drink  and  thereupon  became  a  high 
wayman.  A  few  other  crude  tales,  of  which 
the  "Opium  Eater"  is  the  only  one  preserved 
in  his  collected  works,  portray  similarly  sudden , 
crimes,  usually  the  result  of  intemperance,  some 
times  contrasted  with  equally  shining  virtues, 
and  it  was  not  until  after  1840  that  Whittier 
relinquished  altogether  this  species  of  compo 
sition,  to  which  the  greatest  skill  in  narrative 
and  in  character-drawing  are  as  indispensable  as 
is  a  moral  purpose.  It  was  perhaps  a  work 
of  this  general  sort  that  would  have  resulted 
from  his  plan,  happily  abandoned,  of  writing 
"a  work  of  fiction  which  shall  have  for  its 
object  the  reconciliation  of  the  North  and  the 
South, —  being  simply  an  endeavor  to  do  away 
with  some  of  the  prejudices  which  have  produced 
enmity  between  the  Southron  and  the  Yankee. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN        81 

The  style  which  I  have  adopted  is  about  half 
way  between  the  abruptness  of  Laurence  Sterne 
and  the  smooth  gracefulness  of  W.  Irving."  1 

The  same  deficiency  in  plot  and  character- 
drawing  marred  his  attempts  at  pathetic  narra 
tive  of  the  sentimental  sort,  after  the  model  set 
by  Irving  in  the  "  Sketch  Book,"  dealing  mostly 
with  forsaken  maidens  and  maddened  lovers; 
a  few  similar  experiments  in  tales  of  wonder, 
plagues,  and  Eastern  marvels,  published  like  the 
others  anonymously,  but  probably  to  be  attrib 
uted  to  him,  in  which,  following  Poe's  predeces 
sors,  he  came  to  the  outer  borders  of  Poe's  spe 
cial  domain ;  and  even  the  stories  in  which  he 
put  most  heart,  quaint  or  weird  tales  based  on 
legends  native  to  the  soil. 

Whittier's  first  book,  "  Legends  of  New  Eng 
land,"  published  in  Hartford  in  1831,  contains 
seven  prose  sketches  2  of  this  last  kind,  most  of 
which  had  been  published  in  the  "  New  England 
Magazine."  They  all  deal  with  local  material, 
the  white  man's  feud  with  the  Indian  and  his 
strife  with  the  beasts  of  the  woods,  the  Indian's 
cruel  rites,  the  fabled  marvels  of  the  wilderness. 

1  Letter  to  Mrs.  Sigourney,  February  2,  1832,  in  Pickard, 
Life,  i.  101. 

2  "  The  Midnight  Attack,"  "  The  Rattlesnake  Hunter,"  "The 
Haunted  House,"  "  The  Powwow,"  "  The  Human  Sacrifice," 
"  A  Night  among  the  Wolves,"  and  "  The  Mother's  Revenge." 
None  of  these  was  reprinted  by  Whittier  in  his  Prose  Works. 


82          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Crude  in  execution,  they  are  yet  good  in  sub 
stance,  and  represent  as  good  work  as  was  done 
in  such  unusual  and  homely  material  until,  a  few 
years  later,  Hawthorne  began  in  the  same  maga 
zine  a  series  of  tales  similar  in  essence,  but  in 
which  the  humble  facts  were  touched  with  gla 
mour.  Whittier's  preface  indicated  that  he  was 
conscious  of  being  a  pioneer  in  fertile  territory : 

"  In  the  following  pages  I  have  attempted  to 
present  in  an  interesting  form  some  of  the 
popular  traditions  and  legends  of  New  England. 
The  field  is  a  new  one  —  and  I  have  but  partially 
explored  it.  New  England  is  rich  in  traditionary 
lore  —  a  thousand  associations  of  superstition 
and  manly  daring  and  romantic  adventure  are 
connected  with  her  green  hills  and  her  pleasant 
rivers.  I  leave  the  task  of  rescuing  these  asso 
ciations  from  oblivion  to  some  more  fortunate 
individual,  and  if  this  little  volume  shall  have 
the  effect  to  induce  such  an  effort,  I  shall  at 
least  be  satisfied,  whatever  may  be  the  judgment 
of  the  public  upon  my  own  humble  production 
.  .  .  written  during  the  anxieties  and  perplexing 
cares  attendant  upon  the  management  of  a  politi 
cal  and  literary  periodical." 

His  style,  though  it  lacked  the  charm  of  Haw 
thorne's,  showed  the  skill  of  the  practised  writer 
and  a  feeling  for  the  picturesque  :  — 

"  And  those  who  battled  with  our  fathers,  or 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN        83 

smoked  the  pipe  of  peace  in  their  dwellings, 
where  are  they  ?  Where  is  the  mighty  people 
which,  but  a  little  time  ago,  held  dominion 
over  this  fair  land,  from  the  great  lakes  to  the 
ocean  ?  Go  to  the  hunting  grounds  of  Mian- 
tonimah  and  Annawon  —  to  the  royal  homes  of 
Massasoit  and  Metacom  and  Sassacus,  and  ask 
for  the  traces  and  memorials  of  the  iron  race  of 
warriors  who  wrestled  with  the  pale  Yengeese 
even  unto  death.  There  will  perhaps  remain 
the  ruin  of  their  ancient  forts  —  the  fragments 
of  their  ragged  pottery  —  the  stone-heads  of 
their  scattered  arrows  ;  and,  here  and  there,  on 
their  old  battle-fields,  the  white  bones  of  their 
slain  !  And  these  will  be  all  —  all  that  remain 
to  tell  of  the  perished  race  of  hunters  and  war 
riors.  The  red  man  has  departed  forever. 
The  last  gleam  of  his  Council-fire  has  gone  up 
from  amidst  the  great  oaks  of  the  forest,  and 
the  last  ripple  of  his  canoe  vanished  from  the 
pleasant  waters  bosomed  among  them.  His 
children  are  hastening  toward  the  setting  of  the 
Sun,  and  the  ploughshare  of  the  stranger  is  busy 
among  the  bones  of  his  fathers." 

In  critical  and  expository  essays,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  Whittier  proved  himself  a 
much  more  effective  workman..  In  1830  he 
announced  in  the  "  Gazette "  his  intention  of 
publishing  "  a  history  of  Haverhill,  from  its  first 


84         JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

settlement  in  1640,  to  the  present  time.  Our 
present  situation  affords  us  an  ample  opportu 
nity  for  a  thorough  examination  of  the  town 
records,  and  for  obtaining  such  information  con 
nected  with  the  early  history  of  the  town  as  may 
be  necessary  for  the  accomplishment  of  our  de 
sign."  On  leaving  Haverhill  he  placed  such 
material  as  he  had  collected  in  the  hands  of 
B.  L.  Mirick,  a  clerk  of  literary  tastes  and  aspi 
rations,  who  published  a  "  History  of  Haver- 
hill  "  in  1832.  It  was  a  thin  little  volume,  well 
written,  but  containing  little  besides  extracts 
from  the  town  records,  or  paraphrases  of  them, 
with  slight  comment ;  and  it  did  not  refer  to  any 
part  that  Whittier  had  in  its  preparation.  It 
seems  probable,  however,  from  a  careful  exami 
nation  of  the  style  and  contents,  that  Whittier 
had  a  considerable  share  both  in  the  selection  of 
material  and  in  its  presentation.1 

In  the  journals  Whittier  had  edited  he  had 
occasionally  remarked  on  the  merits  of  current 
writers,  native  and  foreign  ;  but  the  first  long 
piece  of  literary  criticism  —  indeed,  his  first 
considerable  prose  article  that  was  not  a  ficti 
tious  narrative  —  was  an  introduction  to  a  post 
humous  collection  of  the  poems  of  J.  G.  C. 

1  The  copy  in  Whittier's  library  was  sent  to  him  by  Mr. 
Garrison,  and  Mr.  Pickard  thinks  that  the  fact  that  the  title- 
page  is  torn  from  it,  reveals  Whittier's  indignation  at  the  in 
justice  done  him. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         85 

Brainard,  published  in  1832.  In  this  essay  of 
thirty  pages  Whittier  compels  even  the  reader 
of  to-day  to  recognize  the  charm  of  Brainard's 
character  and  work  —  his  sensitive  nature,1  his 

1  When  we  remember  Whittier's  disappointment  in  love, 
known  only  to  himself  and  to  the  subject  of  his  addresses,  we 
can  detect  a  reference  to  his  own  feelings  which  was  perhaps 
meant  for  her  eye  :  — 

"  On  leaving-  College,  he  returned  to  New  London,  and  en 
tered  the  office  of  his  brother,  William  F.  Brainard,  Esq.,  as  a 
Student  at  Law.  While  in  this  situation,  he  experienced  a 
disappointment  of  that  peculiar  nature,  which  so  often  leaves 
an  indelible  impression  upon  the  human  heart.  It  probably 
had  some  influence  upon  the  tenor  of  his  after  life.  It  threw 
a  cloud  between  him  and  the  sunshine  ;  —  it  turned  back  upon 
its  fountain  a  frozen  current  of  rebuked  affections.  This 
circumstance  has  been  mentioned  only  as  affording,  in  some 
measure,  a  solution  of  what  might  have  been  otherwise  inex 
plicable  in  the  depression  of  his  maturer  years.  Perhaps 
there  are  few  men  of  sensitive  feelings  and  high  capacities 
with  whom  something  of  the  kind  does  not  exist,  —  something 
which  the  heart  reverts  to  with  mingled  tenderness  and  sor 
row,  —  one  master  chord  of  feeling  the  tones  of  whose  vibra 
tions  are  loudest  and  longest,  —  one  strong  hue  in  the  picture 
of  existence,  which  blends  with,  and  perchance  overpowers  all 
others,  —  one  passionate  remembrance,  which,  at  times,  like 
the  rod  of  the  Levite,  swallows  up  all  other  emotions.  This 
great  passion  of  the  heart,  when  connected  with  disappointed 
feeling,  is  not  easily  forgotten.  Mirth,  wine,  the  excitement 
of  convivial  intercourse,  —  the  gayeties  of  fashion,  —  the  strug 
gles  of  ambition,  may  produce  a  temporary  release  from  its 
presence.  But  a  word  carelessly  uttered  —  a  flower  —  a  tone 
of  music  —  a  strain  of  poetry,  — 

'  Striking  the  electric  chain  wherewith  we  are  darkly  bound,' 
may  recall  it  again  before  the  eye  of   the  mind,  —  and  the 


86          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

vein  of  quaint  humor,  his  dignified  bearing  in 
the  face  of  approaching  death,  his  fondness  for 
scenery,  his  love  of  local  romance.  This  last  he 
described  in  words  that  reveal  the  passion  for 
New  England  and  its  early  history  which  was 
yearly  growing  stronger  within  him  :  — 

"  It  has  been  often  said  that  the  New  World 
is  deficient  in  the  elements  of  poetry  and  ro 
mance  ;  that  its  bards  must  of  necessity  linger 
over  the  classic  ruins  of  other  lands ;  and  draw 
their  sketches  of  character  from  foreign  sources, 
and  paint  Nature  under  the  soft  beauty  of  an 
Eastern  sky.  On  the  contrary,  New  England  is 
full  of  Romance  ;  and  her  writers  would  do  well 
to  follow  the  example  of  Brainard.  The  great 
forest  which  our  fathers  penetrated  —  the  red 
men  —  their  struggle  and  their  disappearance  — 
the  Powwow  and  the  War-dance  —  the  savage 
inroad  and  the  English  sally  —  the  tale  of  super 
stition,  and  the  scenes  of  Witchcraft,  —  all  these 
are  rich  materials  of  poetry.  We  have  indeed 
no  classic  vale  of  Tempe  —  no  haunted  Parnas 
sus  —  no  temple,  gray  with  years,  and  hallowed 
by  the  gorgeous  pageantry  of  idol  worship  —  no 
towers  and  castles  over  whose  moonlit  ruins 
gathers  the  green  pall  of  the  ivy.  But  we  have 

memory  of  the  past  —  the  glow  and  ardor  of  passion  —  the 
hope  —  the  fear  —  the  disappointment  —  will  crowd  in  upon 
the  heart." 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         87 

mountains  pillaring  a  sky  as  blue  as  that  which 
bends  over  classic  Olympus :  streams  as  bright 
and  beautiful  as  those  of  Greece  or   Italy,  — 
and  forests  richer  and  nobler  than  those  which 
of  old  were  haunted  by  Sylph  and  Dryad." 

The  whole  article  shows  how  rapidly  Whittier 
was  maturing.  His  allusions  to  current  litera 
ture,  to  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Byron,  Southey, 
Shelley,  and  Sterne  indicate  that  the  boy  of  a 
few  books  had  in  four  years  become  well  ac 
quainted  with  the  modern  poetry  of  his  own 
tongue.  And  though  he  speaks  loosely  of  Brain- 
ard's  merit,  as  when  he  declares  that  he  pub 
lished,  "week  after  week,  poems  which  would 
have  done  honor  to  Burns  and  Wordsworth,"  or 
that  a  passage  in  the  pleasant  "  Address  to  the 
Connecticut  River  "  contains  "  nothing  dim,  or 
shadowy,  or  meagre  in  its  outlines,  —  it  is  the 
penciling  of  a  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  full  of  life 
and  vigor  and  beauty,"  still  he  has  his  eye  fixed  on 
the  main  truth,  that  here  was  a  sincere  and  plain 
poet,  who  like  Burns  and  Wordsworth  wrote  sim 
ply  of  simple  things,  and  like  a  great  artist  aimed 
to  reveal  a  charming  landscape  in  all  its  essen 
tial  beauty.  Another  article  on  "  New  England 
Superstitions"  (1833)  is  equally  well  written, 
and  full  of  that  special  folk-lore  which  none 
knew  better  than  he.  Here,  even  more  plainly 
than  in  the  essay  on  Brainard,  the  affectation 


88          JOHN  GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

and  imitation  of  style  disappears,  and  weakness 
of  structure  is  exchanged  for  strength  of  con 
ception  and  vigor  of  execution.  The  man  —  the 
clear-thinking,  simple-hearted  countryman  —  de 
clares  himself,  and  we  see  the  qualities  of  mind 
and  heart  that  were  to  do  good  service  in  the 
cause  of  freedom. 

Even  more  interesting  was  the  progress  Whit- 
tier  was  making  in  poetry,  —  a  progress  of  which 
the  ordinary  reader  can  have  no  conception.  In 
the  body  of  the  volume  of  his  collected  poetical 
works  appear  only  five  poems  belonging  to  this 
period,  and  in  the  Appendix  only  fifteen  more, 
in  all  not  a  tithe  of  the  verses  he  wrote  and  pub 
lished.  His  own  attitude  with  regard  to  his 
early  works  was  unduly  severe,  perhaps  preju 
diced  by  the  quietism  of  his  later  years.  The 
ordinary  reader  is  therefore  unaware  of  the 
existence  of  a  large  number  of  verses  that  have 
almost  equal  claims  on  his  attention  with  what 
is  already  published,  and  is  further  bewildered, 
by  the  unchronological  arrangement  of  the  poems 
in  the  current  edition,  which  presumes  arbitrarily 
to  put  asunder  what  custom,  history,  and  the 
orderly  development  of  genius  agree  in  uniting. 

We  shall  fail,  too,  in  getting  a  right  under 
standing  of  Whittier's  progress  if  we  do  not 
connect  it  with  the  strong  feeling  then  generally 
current  in  America,  and  particularly  in  New 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         89 

England,  that  America  must  produce  a  literature 
of  her  own.  Never  did  man  more  eagerly  await 
the  birth  of  an  heir  who  should  complete  his 
happiness  and  perpetuate  his  line,  than  did  New 
England,  already  two  centuries  old,  and  proud 
of  her  individuality,  long  for  a  poet  who  should 
signally  embody  her  in  verse.  Until  such  a  gen 
ius  should  arise,  national  and  community  life 
was  barren  of  its  crowning  joy.  Many  were  the 
speculations  as  to  the  signs  of  his  coming.  The 
fickle  looked  now  here  and  now  there ;  the  igno 
rant  and  vain  declared  that  not  one  poet  but 
many  had  already  appeared.  The  learned  and 
fastidious  deliberated  whether  there  was  aught 
in  the  nature  of  a  republic  that  made  it  sterile 
in  letters.  Writing  about  1800,  Fisher  Ames 
said  that  the  point  at  issue  was  whether  we  can 
have  a  literature.  "  Our  honors  have  not  faded 
—  they  have  not  even  been  won.  Genius  no 
doubt  exists  in  our  country,  but  it  exists,  like 
the  unbodied  soul  on  the  stream  of  Lethe,  un 
conscious  of  its  powers,  till  the  causes  to  excite 
and  the  occasions  to  display  it,  shall  happen  to 
occur.  As  the  years  roll  by,  with  the  accumu 
lation  of  wealth  there  will  be  an  increase  of  the 
numbers  who  may  choose*  a  literary  leisure. 
Literary  curiosity  will  become  one  of  the  new 
appetites  of  the  nation,  and  as  luxury  advances, 
no  appetite  will  be  denied.  After  some  ages  we 


90          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

shall  have  many  poor  and  a  few  rich,  many 
grossly  ignorant,  a  considerable  number  learned, 
and  a  few  eminently  learned.  Nature,  never 
prodigal  of  her  gifts,  will  produce  men  of  genius 
who  will  be  admired  and  imitated." 

Predictions  come  rapidly  to  pass.  The  age  of 
literary  curiosity  was  begun  in  New  England. 
Not  only  in  the  larger  centres,  but  in  many  a 
village  and  town,  students,  merchants,  farmers, 
and  factory  workers  alike  shared  in  that  interest 
in  poetry,  and  the  cry  was  louder  than  ever  for 
children  of  the  blood  who  should  sing  the  deeds 
of  the  race  and  voice  its  deeper  feelings.  Why 
should  this  blessing  be  denied  us  ?  Are  we  un 
worthy  ?  Is  nature  in  this  our  land  not  noble  ? 
Nay,  said  Knapp  in  1829,  the  time  has  come:  — 

"  Here  nature  presents  her  beauties  in  as  deli 
cate  forms,  and  her  wonders  in  as  bold  relief,  as 
she  has  in  the  birthplace  of  the  muses.  She  has 
laid  the  foundation  of  her  mountains  as  broad, 
and  raised  their  tops  as  high  as  in  the  old  world. 
What  are  the  Tibers  and  Scamanders,  measured 
by  the  Missouri  and  the  Amazon  ?  Or  what  the 
loveliness  of  Illyssus  or  Avon,  by  the  Connecti 
cut  or  the  Potomac  ?  The  waters  of  these  Amer 
ican  rivers  are  as  pure  and  sweet,  and  their 
names  would  be  as  poetical,  were  they  as  famil 
iar  to  us  in  song,  as  the  others,  which  have  been 
immortalized  for  ages.  Whenever  a  nation  wills 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         91 

it,  prodigies  are  born.  Admiration  and  patron 
age  create  myriads  who  struggle  for  the  mastery, 
and  for  the  Olympick  crown.  Encourage  the 
game,  and  the  victors  will  come.  In  the  smiles 
of  publick  favour,  poets  will  arise,  yea,  have  al 
ready  arisen,  whose  rays  of  mental  fire  will  burn 
out  the  foul  stain  upon  our  reputation,  given  at 
first  by  irritated  and  neglected  genius,  and  con 
tinued  by  envy  and  malice  —  that  this  is  the 
land 

*  Where  fancy  sickens,  and  where  genius  dies.' 

"...  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  that  we 
abound  in  good  poets,  whose  writings  will  remain 
to  make  up  the  literature  of  a  future  age ;  nor 
would  I  yield  my  admiration  for  their  produc 
tions  to  others  who  are  prodigal  of  praise  when 
ever  their  works  appear  ;  but  at  this  time  I  am 
not  prepared  to  say  whether  Pierpont  or  Bryant 
be  the  greater  poet,  or  whether  Percival  has 
higher  claims  to  immortality  than  his  brethren 
of  the  '  enchanted  grounds  and  holy  dreams  ; ' 
nor  whether  she  [Mrs.  Sigourney]  of  '  the  banks 
of  the  Connecticut,'  whose  strains  of  poetick 
thought  are  as  pure  and  lovely  as  the  adjacent 
wave  touched  by  the  sanctity  of  a  Sabbath's 
morn,  be  equal  to  her  tuneful  sisters,  Hemans 
and  Landon,  on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  or 
superior  to  her  more  sprightly  rivals  on  this."  ] 

1  Samuel  L.  Knapp,  Lectures  on  American  Literature,  187. 


92          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Whenever  a  nation  wills  it,  prodigies  are  born. 
When  a  nation  is  strong  and  its  life  rich,  it 
must  create  poets.  The  desire  spread,  and  deter 
mination  grew.  In  1839  a  young  commence 
ment  orator  at  Cambridge  expressed  the  pre 
valent  feeling  when  he  said  :  — 

"  We  are  looking  abroad  and  back  after  a  lit 
erature.  Let  us  come  and  live,  and  know  in  liv 
ing  a  high  philosophy  and  faith  ;  so  shall  we  find 
now,  here,  the  elements,  and  in  our  own  good 
souls  the  fire.  Of  every  storied  bay  and  cliff  we 
will  make  something  infinitely  nobler  than  Sala- 
mis  or  Marathon.  This  pale  Massachusetts  sky, 
this  sandy  soil  and  raw  wind,  all  shall  nurture 
us.  ...  Unlike  all  the  world  before  us,  our  own 
age  and  land  shall  be  classic  to  ourselves."  l 

Whittier  must  be  regarded,  then,  as  one  of  a 
group  of  New  England  men  and  women  who,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  second  quarter  of  the  cen 
tury,  were  eagerly  laboring  to  follow  the  dictates 
of  their  natures,  to  fulfill  their  ambitions,  and  to 
meet  the  expectation  of  many  about  them,  by 
expressing  —  in  ways  which  they  could  but  dimly 
feel — the  poetic  sentiment  of  their  communities. 
It  was  the  birth  period  of  the  New  England 
poets,  destined  to  wax  so  strong  between  1840 
and  1865.  They  all  began,  as  poets  must,  by 
imitation.  They  followed  chiefly  the  British 

1  Quoted  in  T.  W.  Higginson,  Cheerful  Yesterdays,  166. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN        93 

writers  of  the  new,  the  romantic  school,  with 
whose  temper  of  mind  and  attitude  toward  na 
ture  and  man  they  had  much  in  common.  It 
was  over  the  civilized  world  a  time  of  emotion 
alism  in  verse.  Emotionalism  revealed  itself  in 
the  love  of  the  medieval  and  the  oriental,  — 
both  realms  in  which  conventionalism  seemed 
absent;  in  the  keener  sentiments  with  which 
scenery  was  regarded,  as  if  the  power  of  sight 
had  been  stimulated  and  trained ;  in  a  fond 
ness  for  the  exquisitely  beautiful,  for  the  wild 
and  terrible  and  extraordinary  ;  in  a  desire  to 
be  thrilled  by  tales  of  madness  and  crime,  to  be 
torn  with  sympathy  for  the  suffering  ;  in  reli 
gious  fervor  and  in  enthusiasm  for  humanita 
rian  reform.  This  great  quickening  of  the  emo 
tions  made  Scott  and  Byron  and  Shelley  and 
Keats,  and  just  as  surely  it  declared  itself  in 
"Whittier  and  Longfellow  and  Lowell,  in  Haw 
thorne  and  Emerson,  brother  romanticists  all. 

Whittier's  part  in  this  movement  was  impor 
tant.  Bryant  had  already  produced  his  noble 
early  poems,  inspired  by  the  austere  life  and 
austere  scenery  surrounding  him  in  his  child 
hood  ;  Lowell  was  a  frivolous  boy.  Brainard, 
the  man  of  greatest  promise,  was  dead  ;  Willis, 
although  so  popular,  was  of  no  real  importance ; 
and  the  leaders  in  the  obscure  forward  march 
were  Poe,  Longfellow,  and  Whittier.  To  Poe, 


94          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITT1ER 

as  a  disciple  of  Coleridge,  belonged  the  advance 
on  the  purely  artistic  side,  the  evolution  of  mel 
ody.  Longfellow  was  an  avowed  scholar,  though 
destined  soon  to  come  back  to  poetry  with  the 
intent  of  creating  a  literature  on  foreign  models. 
Whittier  was  the  only  man  of  genius  who  was 
attacking  the  problem  directly. 

Every  step  in  his  development  is  therefore  of 
interest.  We  may  neglect  his  few  moralizing 
poems,  on  temperance  and  the  like,  as  barren 
experiments,  not  to  be  renewed;  and  his  rare 
attempts  in  the  manner  and  matter  of  Coleridge 
—  in  particular  a  rhymed  tale  called  the  "  Fire 
Ship,"  which  follows  closely  the  "  Ancient  Mar 
iner,"  and  another,  "  The  Demon  Lover,"  which 
is,  with  equal  obviousness,  inspired  by  "  Chris- 
tabel:"- 

"  The  dog  is  baying  in  the  clear 
Still  beauty  of  the  autumn  morn  ; 
But  nevermore,  with  heedful  ear 
And  kindling1  eye,  that  dog  shall  hear 
The  echoes  of  his  master's  horn." 

There  remain  two  main  lines  of  endeavor,  his 
experiments  in  the  style  of  Byron  and  his  exper 
iments  in  the  style  of  Mrs.  Hemans. 

"  Peter  Parley  "  has  preserved  in  his  admir 
able  memoirs  a  record  of  the  startling  effect 
produced  in  staid  New  England  by  the  poems  of 
Byron  :  — 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         95 

"  Campbell's  4  Pleasures  of  Hope  '  and  Rogers' 
4  Pleasures  of  Memory '  were  favorite  poems  from 
1800  to  1815;  and  during  the  same  period 
4  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,'  the  '  Scottish  Chiefs,' 
the  4  Pastor's  Fireside,'  by  Jane  Porter ;  4  Sand- 
ford  and  Merton,'  by  Day ; 4  Belinda,' 4  Leonora,' 
4  Patronage,'  by  Miss  Edgeworth  ;  and  4  Coelebs 
in  Search  of  a  Wife,'  Hannah  More,  were  types 
of  the  popular  taste  in  tales  and  romances.  It 
was  therefore  a  fearful  plunge  from  this  elevated 
moral  tone  in  literature,  into  the  daring  if  not 
blasphemous  skepticisms  of  the  new  poet." l 

Many  circumstances  combined  to  bring  Whit- 
tier  strongly  under  the  influence  of  the  new 
poetry  and  the  new  conception  of  poetic  material 
and  poetic  method.  Bred  in  isolation,  he  had 
been  suddenly  thrust  out  into  the  jostling  world  ; 
nourished  on  the  writings  of  quietists,  he  now 
became  familiar  with  the  heart-outpourings  of 
more  ambitious,  less  saintly  spirits ;  trained  to 
manual  labor,  where  reward  is  commensurate 
with  toil,  he  found  himself  suddenly  in  a  profes 
sion  in  which  influential  connections  and  mental 
dexterity  played  an  important  part.  A  few  years 
before,  he  had  been  a  farmer's  lad,  an  appren 
tice  cobbler,  a  schoolboy.  Now  he  was  at  the 
head  of  a  prominent  journal,  in  communication 
with  party  leaders.  He  had  been  disappointed 

1  S.  G.  Goodrich,  Recollections  of  a  Lifetime,  Letter  35. 


96          JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHIT  TIER 

in  love,  jeered  at  for  his  lack  of  social  standing ; l 
he  was  raw,  sensitive,  bewildered,  but  fiercely 
ambitious.  It  was  no  wonder  that  in  his  grop- 
ings  after  some  guide  in  the  darkness,  he  laid 
hold  of  the  most  powerful  influence  of  his  time, 
—  the  rebellious  and  despairing  Byron. 

The  mood  of  Byron  is  thus  predominant  in 
his  verses  of  1829-1832.  Commenting  on  Whit- 
tier's  remarks  on  English  poetry  in  the  review 
of  Brainard's  work,  a  brother  editor  in  Hartford 
remarked  that  his  mind  was  evidently  of  the 
Byronic  cast,  and  in  his  letters  and  in  his  articles 
are  evidences  of  the  hold  which  Byron  held  on 
his  imagination.  Writing  to  a  friend,  a  lady,  in 
1831,  he  speaks  of  his  hatred  of  reserve  and 
cant,  of  his  many  disappointments,  of  his  deter 
mination  to  be  known  as  something  else  than  a 
writer  of  rhymes,  of  a  high  goal  to  be  won  in 
the  strife  of  men.  To  Prentice  he  wrote  in  1830 
that  he  has  "  read  Byron's  own  relation  of  him 
self  [in  Moore's  biography]  with  sorrow,  with 
deep  anguish,"  and  adds  :  — 

"  I  am  haunted  by  an  immedicable  ambition 

1  Joseph    Snelling,    in    his    Truth,   a   New-Year1  s  Gift  for 
Scribblers  (1831),  had  thus  satirized  him  :  — 

"  The  wax  still  sticking  to  his  fingers'  ends, 
The  upstart  Wh-tt-r,  for  example,  lends 
The  world  important  aid  to  understand 
What 's  said,  and  sung,  and  printed  in  the  land." 

S.  G.  Goodrich,  Recollections  of  a' Lifetime,  footnote,  Letter  46. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         97 

-  perhaps  a  very  foolish  desire  of  distinction, 
of  applause,  of  fame,  of  what  the  world  calls 
immortality.  ...  I  cannot  look  upon  the  world 
with  kindness  —  however  much  I  desire  to  do  so. 
It  has  neglected,  it  has  wronged  me,  and  its  idle 
praise  is  little  less  repulsive  to  me  than  its  loud 
and  open  rebukes.  Yet  there  is  a  strange  pas 
sion  in  our  nature  (which  I  deem  but  the  warm 
aspiring  of  an  immortal  mind,  seeking  some 
angelic  fellowship)  that  suggests  eternal  schemes 
of  ambition,  little  likely  to  be  fulfilled.  I  own 
myself,  reluctantly,  subject  to  these  influences. 
Deeply  as  I  despise  the  follies  and  abhor  the 
crimes  of  society,  I  would  not  depart  from  this 
sphere  of  trial  without  leaving  behind  me  a 
name  to  be  remembered  when  I  am  dust.  Then 
whither  goes  the  soul !  " 

In  general,  much  of  his  verse  was  equally 
Byronic.  In  a  poem  beginning  "  How  wearily 
the  night  goes  on  "  (1829),  he  complains  of  not 
being  able 

"  to  pour  the  heartless  strain 
Among  the  grovelling  things  of  earth*' 

His  hopes  are  dead  :  — 

"  The  world  has  not  been  kind  to  me, 
And  I  have  met  with  cold  disdain,  .  .  . 
For  I  have  known  the  cold  repulse 
Which  wealth  can  offer  to  the  low." 

Hence  there  arises  in  him  demoniac  hatred  and 


98          JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

the  mad  desire  for  vengeance.  In  his  narrative 
poems,  also,  there  are  Byronic  themes  and  remi 
niscences  ;  one  poem  at  least  deals  with  an  inci 
dent  in  Byron's  life.  In  "  Moll  Pitcher  "  (1832), 
a  long  narrative  poem  dealing  with  the  fortune 
teller  of  Lynn,  though  the  form  is  in  imitation 
of  Scott,  the  substance  —  the  witch's  revenge, 
the  madness  of  the  heart-broken  girl  —  is  By 
ronic  in  character.  Byronic,  too,  is  the  author's 
thirst  for  fame,  expressed  at  the  opening  of  the 
second  canto,  though  omitted  in  the  edition  of 
1840  :  - 

"  Land  of  my  fathers !  —  if  my  name, 
Now  humble  and  unwed  to  fame, 
Hereafter  burn  upon  the  lip, 

As  one  of  those  which  may  not  die, 
Linked  in  eternal  fellowship 

With  visions  pure  and  strong  and  high  — 
If  the  wild  dreams,  which  quicken  now 
The  throbbing  pulse  of  heart  and  brow, 
Hereafter  take  a  real  form 
Like  spectres  changed  to  being  warm ; 
And  over  temples  worn  and  gray 

The  star-like  crown  of  glory  shine,  — 
Thine  be  the  bard's  undying  lay, 

The  murmur  of  his  praise  be  thine  !  " 

And  to  the  same  source  seems  to  be  due  not  only 
the  form  but  the  theme  of  the  "  Minstrel  Girl " 
(1829),  that  of  the  famous  singer  whose  despair 
at  her  lover's  death  had  driven  her  to  religious 
seclusion. 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN         99 

This  predominant  influence  was  due  to  the 
disturbing  stimulus  of  the  new  and  larger  world, 
to  which  he  was  yet  imperfectly  adjusted,  and 
was  completely  foreign  to  the  quietism  of  Whit- 
tier's  early  training  and  of  his  later  feelings. 
Fortunately,  it  was  modified  by  two  other  influ 
ences,  that  of  Scott  and  that  of  Mrs.  Hemans. 

Scott  showed  him  that  the  richest  poetical 
material  lay  in  the  legends  of  his  country's  past. 
Romantic-minded  as  Whittier  naturally  was,  and 
versed  in  the  local  history  of  New  England,  he 
was  thus  on  the  verge  of  the  discovery  that  the 
life  of  the  olden  time  could  be  best  expressed  in 
ballad  verse.  The  substance  of  splendid  poems 
was  in  his  mind,  but  the  right  form  was  wanting. 
The  dying  Indian  chieftain,  the  helpless  captive 
of  the  pirates  at  Marblehead,  the  spectre  war 
riors  and  the  phantom  ship, —  these  and  other 
themes  equally  striking  appear  in  the  verses  col 
lected  in  "  Legends  of  New  England."  But  the 
treatment  was  that  of  Scott's  narrative  verse, 
and  the  effect  was  mediocre. 

Scott's  influence  brought  Whittier  more  whole 
some  material,  but  his  growth  on  the  equally 
important  side  of  form  seems  to  have  been  due 
to  his  own  long-continued  practice  under  the 
influence  of  his  old  idol,  Mrs.  Hemans.  For  a 
time  he  seemed  to  own  allegiance  to  the  now 
almost  forgotten  sentimentalist,  Miss  Landon, 


100        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

"  L,  E.  L.,"  of  whom  he  had  said  in  the  "  Man 
ufacturer  "  that  she  "  laid  open  to  the  world  the 
secrets  of  a  heart  exquisitely  alive  to  earnest  and 
clinging  affections,"  and  to  whom  he  addresses 
verses  in  the  "  New  England  Keview  "  containing 
the  prophecy :  — 

"  The  gifted  ones  in  after  years  shall  worship  at  thy  shrine. 
And  Earth's  high  spirits  joy  to  hold  companionship  with 
thine." 

And  the  analytic  reader  would  no  doubt  also  find 
traces  in  his  work  of  the  influence  of  his  friend 
Mrs.  Sigourney,  whose  writing  much  resembled 
that  of  L.  E.  L.  But  some  instinct  held  him  to 
his  experiments  in  the  vein  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  the 
romantic,  narrative,  lyric  treatment  of  striking 
historical  events  ;  and,  wonder  of  wonders,  in  the 
midst  of  these  juvenile  scrawlings  suddenly  ap 
peared  the  handiwork  of  the  artist.  In  the  scores 
of  scores  of  poems  he  had  written  up  to  1832 
there  were  only  three  of  any  possible  value,  — 
"  The  Song  of  the  Vermonters,"  the  sole  worthy 
achievement  of  his  school-days,  "The  Vaudois 
Teacher,"  and  "  The  Star  of  Bethlehem."  These 
last  were  both  printed  in  1830  and  are  both  pre 
served  in  his  collected  works ;  of  both  Mrs.  He- 
mans  might  have  been  the  author.  But  while 
the  originality  is  slight,  the  growth  in  skill  is 
notable.  For  once  the  hand  is  steady  and  the 
outlines  clear.  In  both  he  had  chanced  on  sub- 


JOURNALIST  AND  POLITICIAN      101 

jects  attractive  to  Protestants ;  both  dealt  with 
the  spread  of  the  gospel,  with  that  strange  re 
modelling  of  the  world  through  the  new  message 
of  the  evangels,  —  a  mission  profuse  in  pictur 
esque  incident,  a  romantic  as  well  as  a  philan 
thropic  mission,  which,  in  its  new  form,  was 
firing  many  of  the  finest  minds  in  England  and 
America  with  religious  passion.  Both  appealed 
to  the  people  at  large,  and  "  The  Vaudois 
Teacher,"  translated  into  French,  became  a 
household  classic  among  the  Waldenses.  Both 
move  swiftly ;  and  in  "  The  Star  of  Bethlehem," 
in  such  lines  as 

"  And  what  am  I,  o'er  such  a  land 

The  banner  of  the  Cross  to  bear  ? 
Dear  Lord,  uphold  me  with  Thy  hand, 

Thy  strength  with  human  weakness  share !  " 

we  hear  for  an  instant  the  anticipatory  note  — 
the  special  tone,  melody,  and  manner  of  his 
maturer  years. 

In  brief,  we  have  in  these  few  years  the  most 
pathetic  period  in  Whittier's  career.  Nurtured 
in  the  veriest  nook  of  the  world,  and  bred  a 
quietist,  he  had  been  flung  out  into  the  outer 
regions  of  disillusionment.  Love  drove  him 
hither  and  yon ;  ambition  seized  him ;  he  was 
pelted,  praised,  snubbed,  satirized ;  he  saw  the 
seeming  hollowness  of  life;  he  felt  rebellious 
despair.  And  now,  broken  in  health,  doubly 


102       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

disappointed  in  love,  he  was  thrown  back  into 
the  peaceful  hillside  nook  of  his  boyhood,  there 
to  brood  over  his  part  in  life  until,  a  year  later, 
reality  conquered  fantasy,  and  he  laid  hold  of 
the  work  that  was  his  and  not  another's.  Mean 
while  his  art  was  growing  as  his  intellect  devel 
oped,  nourished  by  the  great  underlying  currents 
of  patriotism  and  religion.  Little  that  he  had 
written  would  match  the  poems  contained  in 
the  earliest  volume  of  good  American  verse,  — 
the  "Miscellaneous  Poems  Selected  from  the 
United  States  Literary  Gazette  "  (1826),  — that 
austere  group  of  verses  by  Bryant,  Percival,  and 
Longfellow.  But  in  1832  Percival's  best  work 
was  done ;  Bryant  was  a  lawyer,  journalist,  and 
politician,  and  was  destined  never  to  surpass 
those  early  productions ;  Longfellow  was  likely 
to  be  little  more  than  a  clever  schoolmaster; 
Willis  was  placidly  and  continually  trivial ;  Poe's 
star  was  scarcely  above  the  horizon.  There  was 
nowhere  in  America  a  writer  of  verse  with  more 
immediate  promise  than  Whittier,  and  he  was  a 
sick  man  in  the  old  house  at  the  back  of  Job's 
Hill,  disgusted  with  poetry  and  planning  how  he 
could  best  get  to  Congress. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   YOUNG   ABOLITIONIST 
1833-1840 

THE  crisis  in  Whittier's  life  was  the  moment 
when,  throwing  aside  his  Byronic  passion  for 
fame,  his  selfish  zeal  for  political  preferment,  he 
identified  himself  with  the  abolitionist  move 
ment,  then  the  most  forlorn  of  forlorn  hopes. 
He  that  loseth  his  life  shall  save  it:  the  sacri 
fice  of  self,  the  devotion  to  a  humanitarian  end, 
brought  out  the  nobler  side  of  his  genius,  and 
gave  him,  when  he  no  longer  desired  it,  the  fame 
he  once  had  craved.  As  he  said  in  later  years 
to  a  boy  seeking  counsel,  "My  lad,  if  thou 
wouldst  win  success,  join  thyself  to  some  unpop 
ular  but  noble  cause."  What  it  personally  meant 
to  Whittier  to  take  this  stand,  what  the  direc 
tion  was  which  it  gave  to  his  verse  and  his  prose, 
cannot  be  understood  without  a  careful  survey 
of  the  movement. 

The  romantic  movement  in  letters  was  merely 
one  side  of  a  wave  of  tender  feeling  which  swept 
over  almost  all  civilized  nations,  and  which  was 
at  its  height  in  America  during  the  second 


104       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  rational 
movement  of  the  preceding  century  had  led  to 
theoretical  independence  and  equality  among  the 
whites  in  the  United  States.  At  the  same  time 
it  was  not  to  be  disputed  that  the  country  was  far 
from  unified.  The  Union  had  been  made  up  of 
various  groups  of  communities,  each  group  abid 
ing  by  its  own  laws  and  customs,  and  while  hold 
ing  necessary  commercial  relations  with  others, 
not  having  any  close  sympathy  with  them.  This 
old  tribal  or  sectional  feeling  still  held  firm, 
both  in  New  England  and  in  the  South,  under 
neath  the  superficies  of  national  feeling,  and 
not  until  after  the  recent  Spanish  war  could  the 
unification  and  nationalization  of  the  country  be 
regarded  as  reasonably  complete.  But  in  spite 
of  this  crude  and  selfish  sectional  feeling  there 
was  working  throughout  the  land,  and  notably 
among  New  Englanders,  a  marked  altruistic 
sentiment,  a  growing  pity  for  the  unfortunate  or 
sinful  members  of  their  own  or  other  communi 
ties.  The  same  sentiment  existed  also  in  England 
and  Scotland,  and  may  in  general  be  regarded 
as  a  working  out  into  general  practice  of  the 
individualistic  forces  of  Puritanism,  and  as  par 
ticularly  connected  with  the  various  dissenting 
sects,  all  of  which  were  marked  by  a  keen  and 
tender  realization  of  the  brotherhood  of  man. 
But  the  influence  of  the  church  must  not  be 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          105 

regarded  as  directly  potent  in  this  altruistic 
development.  Indeed,  the  church,  essentially  a 
conservative  force  when  once  firmly  established, 
had  often  to  be  reformed  from  within  before  it 
would  take  up  these  movements  for  the  refor 
mation  of  the  outer  world.  That  is  but  natural. 
The  movers  in  any  marked  social  change  must 
be  such  as  are  psychologically  able  readily  to 
form  new  associations,  to  group  the  facts  of  life 
in  a  new  way.  Men  whose  brains  have  this 
flexibility  are  rarely  the  learned  or  the  rich. 
They  are  more  likely  to  be  simple-minded  folk, 
or  even  outcasts,  who  have  not  been  bred  into 
conformity  with  a  fixed  pattern  of  life,  who  have 
not  learned  to  regard  the  world  as  bound  by 
strict  laws.  Certainly,  not  to  states  or  churches 
or  colleges  belongs  the  honor  of  inaugurating 
the  abolitionist  movement.  All  of  these  long 
stood  in  the  way.  In  the  country  and  in  the 
hearts  of  simple  farmers  and  mechanics  grew  the 
seeds  of  reform  that  had  been  planted  by  the  re 
ligious  revolt  of  the  seventeenth  century,  that  were 
nourished  by  the  political  revolt  of  the  eight 
eenth  century,  and  were  now  brought  to  blossom 
by  the  emotional  revolt  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
This  altruistic  feeling  was  oddly  compounded 
of  pity  and  dogmatism.  "  You  unfortunate  oth 
ers  who  are  intempera/te  or  slaves  or  heathen," 
it  seemed  to  say,  "  you  are  to  be  pitied  ;  govern- 


106       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

ment  and  custom  have  combined  to  keep  you  on 
the  wrong  path ;  but  I  have  discovered  the  right 
path,  and  in  the  face  of  all  opposition,  I,  though 
I  stand  alone,  will  put  you  on  it,  whether  you 
wish  it  or  not."  And  so  arose  temperance  agi 
tators  and  temperance  societies,  abolitionists  and 
abolition  societies,  missionaries  and  missionary 
societies,  and  hosts  of  minor  reformers,  a  perfect 
army  of  pestering  people,  mad  for  reconstructing 
state  and  church  and  society,  thrusting  their 
appeals  and  their  advice  in  the  face  of  the  whole 
world.  All  common  sense  and  common  prudence 
discountenanced  their  extreme  doctrines.  Mostly 
poor,  such  reconstructionists  frequently  depended 
for  their  support  upon  the  community,  subjected 
their  wives  to  hardships,  and  condemned  their 
children,  of  whom  there  was  usually  no  scarcity, 
to  enter  the  fierce  battle  of  life  without  help  from 
their  parents.  Thus  breaking  all  the  laws  of 
orderly  family  growth,  and  of  the  upbuilding  of 
righteousness  by  regular  means,  they  persisted 
that  they  were  chosen  of  the  Lord  not  to  labor 
as  ordinary  men,  but  to  be  supported  by  others 
while  they  were  elevating  the  morals  of  the 
world.  On  the  side  of  their  self-appointed  duties 
they  were  by  necessity  extremists,  pressing  upon 
the  world  violent  reforms,  destroying  vested 
interests,  going  counter  to  long-established  cus 
toms.  And  yet  these  men,  with  their  tendency 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         107 

to  shiftlessness,  with  their  bad  manners  and  im 
perfect  education,  slaves  of  a  new  idea,  were  in 
reality  what  they  claimed  to  be,  —  the  lever  by 
which  civilization  was  to  be  hoisted  from  its  old 
rut,  the  purifiers  of  ancient  abuses ;  and  among 
them  were  a  few  who  were  the  most  saintly,  the 
most  noble,  and  the  most  far-seeingly  logical  of 
their  generation.  It  was  to  this  motley  band  of 
reformers  that  Whittier  was  now  to  ally  himself, 
under  the  special  banner  of  abolitionism.  "  A  just 
survey  of  the  whole  world  can  leave  little  doubt," 
wrote  Harriet  Martineau,  "  that  the  abolitionists 
of  the  United  States  are  the  greatest  people  now 
living  and  moving  in  it."  l 

In  America  slavery  had  been  generally  con 
demned  by  the  most  advanced  thinkers  and  the 
most  humane  minds.  The  abolition  of  slaves, 
Jefferson  wrote  in  1774,  is  the  great  object  of 
our  desire.  The  first  step  towards  that  end  was 
the  stopping  of  importation ;  but  such  laws  as 
were  made  by  Virginia  to  that  effect  were  vetoed 
by  the  king,  and  Burke  declared  that  this  refusal, 
for  the  sake  of  gain,  to  aid  the  suppression  of 
this  inhuman  traffic  was  one  of  the  causes  of  the 
struggle  for  independence.  In  1787  an  ordinance, 
voted  for  even  by  the  Southern  delegates,  prohib 
ited  slavery  in  the  great  Northwestern  territory, 
out  of  which  new  states  were  to  be  carved.  There 

1  London  and  Westminster  Review,  December,  1838. 


108       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

was  still  a  strong  feeling  against  the  importation 
of  slaves,  but  the  Carolinas  and  Georgia,  for 
economic  reasons,  persisted  in  upholding  the 
practice,  and  rather  than  lose  their  support  a 
compromise  was  made,  and  it  was  agreed  that 
importation  was  not  to  be  prohibited  until  1808. 
At  that  time  importation  into  the  West  Indies 
was  still  allowed  by  Great  Britain,  and  the  atti 
tude  of  the  United  States  was,  on  the  whole,  in 
advance  of  the  times.  In  the  last  decade  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  there  was  much  agitation  in 
favor  of  abolition,  but  it  was  finally  determined 
that,  as  Congress  was  pledged  not  to  stop  impor 
tation  until  1808,  it  had  no  authority  to  interfere 
in  the  affairs  of  states  in  favor  of  emancipation. 
When  the  term  of  years  was  reached,  and  the 
importation  of  slaves  was  prohibited,  it  was 
generally  felt  that  the  question  was  settled. 
Slavery  was  abandoned  in  the  North,  and  its 
further  increase  in  the  South  by  importation  was 
stopped ;  it  was  expected  that  it  would  be  pro 
hibited  in  the  new  states  and  would  decrease  in 
the  old.  The  abolition  societies  were  disbanded 
and  the  claims  of  humanitarianism  were  satisfied. 
But  rapid  progress  in  economic  conditions 
brought  about  unexpected  results.  The  inven 
tion  of  the  cotton  gin,  and  the  enormous  profit 
to  be  derived  through  its  use  by  blacks  in  regions 
where  whites  could  not  work,  drew  several  states 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         109 

into  raising  almost  nothing  except  cotton,  and 
turned  them  away  from  manufacturing.  Slaves 
were  used  up  more  rapidly  in  the  unfavorable 
climates ;  and  as  importation  was  forbidden,  it 
became  profitable  to  breed  them,  in  favorable 
climates,  to  supply  the  increasing  demand.  A  dis 
tinct  group  of  plantation  states  was  thus  formed 
and  perpetuated,  based  on  an  economic  basis  of 
property  in  man.  In  these  a  distinct  form  of 
society  grew  up,  a  society  rich,  cultivated,  and 
intelligent,  but  economically  reactionary,  in  that 
it  rested  on  a  principle  of  patriarchal  control 
which,  in  that  special  form,  the  civilized  world 
was  rapidly  discarding.  It  soon  became  impos 
sible  for  Southerners  to  conceive  of  living  under 
any  other  system.  Tariff  legislation  only  in 
creased  the  difference  between  the  Northern  and 
the  Southern  systems,  and  the  growing  wealth 
of  the  section  was  an  argument  for  content.  In 
the  South  all  sensible  people  deplored  slavery ; 
but  how  could  it  be  changed  ?  It  was  apparently 
destined  that  an  inferior  race  should  labor  for 
them  in  this  fashion  ;  any  other  arrangement 
was  inconceivable ;  and  they  were  all  naturally 
anxious  to  extend  this  familiar  social  organization 
into  new  and  contiguous  states.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  North,  while  attached  to  its  own  sys 
tem  and  anxious  to  extend  it  into  other  states, 
was  indifferent  to  slavery  in  the  South.  The 


110       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

North  profited  by  its  relations  with  the  South, 
and  hence  by  slavery.  Slavery  was  an  evil,  but 
not  one  of  the  North's  making,  nor  one  that  lay 
within  its  legal  power  to  attack.  As  Daniel 
Webster,  who  represented  the  best  opinion  of 
the  North,  said  in  his  debate  with  Hayne,  "  The 
slavery  of  the  South  has  always  been  regarded 
as  a  matter  of  domestic  policy  left  with  the 
states  themselves,  and  with  which  the  federal 
government  had  nothing  to  do.  ...  I  regard 
domestic  slavery  as  one  of  the  greatest  evils, 
both  moral  and  political.  But  whether  it  be  a 
malady  and  whether  it  be  curable,  and  if  so,  by 
what  means ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  whether  it 
be  the  vulnus  immedicabile  of  the  social  system, 
I  leave  it  to  those  whose  right  and  duty  it  is  to 
inquire  and  decide.  And  this  I  believe  is,  and 
uniformly  has  been,  the  sentiment  of  the  North." 
But  only  the  part  of  the  North  which  was 
bound  by  the  conventions  of  trade  and  state  and 
church  was  wholly  indifferent  to  slavery.  More 
open  minds  everywhere,  and  particularly  the 
inhabitants  of  certain  rural  districts,  knew  it  to 
be  a  gigantic  evil ;  and  people  who  had  been 
brought  into  connection  with  European  criti 
cism  were  ashamed  of  the  vital  inconsistency 
between  the  spirit  of  liberty  contemplated  by 
the  theory  of  American  institutions  and  the  sad 
fact  of  a  civilization  that  was  so  largely  based  on 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         111 

slavery.  Even  their  uneasy  consciences,  how 
ever,  were  often  lulled  to  rest  by  the  apparent 
activity  of  the  Colonization  Society,  in  which 
slave-owners  were  largely  interested,  and  on 
which  church  and  state  alike  looked  with  favor. 
Its  aim  was  to  encourage  the  emigration  to 
Africa  or  Haiti  of  free  blacks,  and  many  hoped 
that  voluntary  emancipation  would  soon  swell 
the  numbers  of  these  emigrants  and  decrease 
rapidly  the  slave  population. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Benjamin  Lundy, 
a  deaf  little  Quaker,  indefatigable  in  his  efforts 
to  promote  colonization,  began  publishing  his 
"  Genius  of  Universal  Emancipation,"  and  la 
boring  in  a  very  humble  way  to  create  a  pub 
lic  opinion  in  the  South  in  favor  of  some  plan 
of  voluntary  emancipation.  In  1828  he  visited 
Boston  and  tried  in  vain  to  get  the  attention  and 
support  of  the  clergymen.  They  turned  a  deaf 
ear  and  a  dull  mind  to  his  entreaties,  but  he  was 
eagerly  listened  to  by  William  Lloyd  Garrison, 
who  was  determined  to  give  his  life  to  humani 
tarian  reforms.  Shortly  afterwards  Garrison 
went  to  Bennington,  Vt.,  to  edit  a  Clay  paper, 
in  which  incidentally  he  advocated  gradual 
emancipation  for  slaves,  and  he  was  also  inter 
ested  in  the  petition  of  1829  for  emancipation 
by  the  central  government  of  slaves  in  the  Dis 
trict  of  Columbia.  His  devotion  to  this  species 


112        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHIT  TIER 

of  reform  grew  rapidly,  and  in  1829  lie  joined 
Lundy  in  Baltimore  and  became  co-editor  of  the 
"  Genius  of  Universal  Emancipation,"  bringing 
into  that  mild  paper  the  aggressive  methods 
of  a  political  journalist.  He  attacked  the  local 
slave  trade  vigorously,  and  finally,  in  the  absence 
of  his  colleague,  he  roundly  berated  a  Newbury- 
port  shipmaster  who  took  a  cargo  of  slaves  from 
Baltimore  to  New  Orleans,  was  promptly  sued 
for  libel,  and  as  promptly  convicted  by  a  Balti 
more  jury.  Unable  to  meet  the  large  fine,  he 
lay  for  some  weeks  in  jail,  until  released  by  the 
payment  of  it  by  a  New  York  philanthropist. 

Garrison  was  a  man  of  iron  resolve,  and  pun 
ishment  only  fanned  his  indignation  to  white 
heat.  He  returned  to  Boston  and  began  at  once 
an  active  propaganda.  He  now  saw  two  things 
plainly :  first,  the  colonization  idea  was  a  hin 
drance  and  not  a  help,  and  gradual  emancipa 
tion  led  nowhere ;  second,  it  was  immediate  and 
unconditional  emancipation  and  residence  as  a 
freeman  on  American  soil  that  was  the  slave's 
right.  This  doctrine,  almost  absolutely  novel  at 
that  time,  he  preached  with  vehemence,  publicly 
and  privately,  in  the  autumn  of  1830.  He  soon 
converted  to  his  way  of  thinking  a  few  humani 
tarians,  of  whom  young  Unitarian  clergymen 
formed  an  important  part.  On  January  1, 1831, 
without  capital,  and  aided  only  by  an  old  friend, 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         113 

Knapp,  who  was  a  journeyman  printer  and  a 
colored  boy,  he  began  to  publish  the  "  Liberator," 
which  bore  the  motto,  "Our  country  is  the 
world  —  our  countrymen  are  mankind.-"  His 
announcement  of  his  purpose  said  flatly  :  "  Urge 
me  not  to  use  moderation  in  a  cause  like  the 
present.  I  am  in  earnest  —  I  will  not  equivo 
cate  —  I  will  not  excuse  —  I  will  not  retreat  a 
single  inch  —  AND  I  WILL  BE  HEARD." 

Garrison  and  his  little  band  thus  boldly  ar 
rayed  themselves  against  the  hard  and  fast 
opinions  of  the  society  surrounding  them.  Ne 
groes  were  generally  thought  to  be  a  happy-go- 
lucky  race,  fairly  well  off  in  bondage.  The 
South  bitterly  resented  any  criticism  of  its  social 
and  economic  system.  Merchants  did  not  wish 
a  question  raised  that  shook  the  foundations  of 
that  system.  The  church  thought  slavery  a  part 
of  the  divine  plan  of  affairs,  to  be  bettered  only 
by  colonization.  The  ministers  did  not  purpose 
to  have  the  public  taught  its  moral  duty  by  any 
one  not  a  properly  accredited  representative  of  a 
religious  body.  College  professors  objected  to 
being  instructed  in  their  duty  by  a  young  and 
obscure  journalist.  Garrison's  idea  was  natu 
rally  thought  to  be  pure  fanaticism,  and  no 
modern  anarchist  is  now  regarded  as  more  dan 
gerously  subversive  of  sound  economic  and  polit 
ical  doctrine  than  was  he. 


114      JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Though  the  dogma  of  immediate  emancipation 
attracted  unusual  attention,  it  did  not  at  first 
spread  rapidly.  A  little  band  of  a  dozen  or 
more  had  joined  with  Garrison  in  forming,  in 
January,  1832,  the  New  England  Anti-Slavery 
Society.  The  "  Liberator  "  gained  a  few  sub 
scribers,  and  was  as  widely  circulated  as  the 
slender  means  of  the  reformers  would  allow.  It 
preached  incessantly  that  the  slaves  were  held  in 
unlawful  bondage,  and  the  implication  was  that 
they  would  be  justified  in  revolting.  Garrison 
was  far  from  encouraging  them  to  do  so,  and 
the  "  Liberator  "  was  not  put  into  the  hands  of 
slaves;  but  when  the  Nat  Turner  insurrection 
of  1831  came,  the  South  naturally  connected 
it  with  Garrison's  propaganda,  and  was  enraged 
that  a  Northern  state  should  allow  the  publica 
tion  of  such  a  dangerous  and  seditious  sheet. 
Boston  in  its  turn  was  enraged  that  a  sister  state 
could  have  such  just  cause  for  reproach  against 
her.  North  and  South  alike,  people  called  for 
the  repression  by  law  of  the  "  Liberator." 

In  1832  and  1833  the  agitation  spread  more 
rapidly,  increased  by  the  publication  in  1832  of 
Garrison's  "  Thoughts  on  African  Colonization," 
and  in  1833  by  the  act  of  Great  Britain  in 
emancipating  the  slaves  in  her  West  Indian 
colonies.  The  hatred  of  the  abolitionists  was 
meanwhile  growing  more  bitter,  and  in  1833, 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          115 

when  Miss  Prudence  Crandall  of  Canterbury, 
Conn.,  attempted  to  open  a  school  for  the  educa 
tion  of  free  negro  girls,  the  whole  town  rose  in 
arms,  treating  her  with  legal  severity  and  per 
sonal  indignity.  It  was  at  this  stage  of  public 
opinion  that  two  fairly  well-known  writers, 
Whittier  and  Mrs.  Lydia  Maria  Child,  made 
plain  their  sympathy  with  the  new  movement  by 
publishing  respectively,  in  1833,  "Justice  and 
Expediency  "  and  "  An  Appeal  in  Favor  of  that 
Class  of  Americans  called  Africans." 

What  it  meant  to  come  flatly  out  as  an  abolition 
ist  at  that  time  should  be  clearly  borne  in  mind. 
Men  of  humane  views,  North  and  South,  were 
opposed  to  slavery,  in  principle  or  in  practice  or 
in  both  ;  but  to  assert  the  theory  of  unconditional 
emancipation  was  to  promulgate  a  startling  and, 
to  most  minds,  a  frightfully  dangerous  doctrine. 
It  meant  the  overthrow  of  our  political  and 
social  system :  it  meant  universal  suffrage,  it 
meant  amalgamation,  it  meant  the  civilization  of 
South  America  and  the  West  Indies.  No  won 
der  men  stood  aghast.  Now  Whittier  was  an 
anti-slavery  man  by  virtue  of  his  Quaker  birth 
right,  but  so  far  he  had  not  identified  himself 
with  the  abolitionists.  His  reference  in  the 
"New  England  Review"  to  the  establishment 

o 

of  the  "  Liberator  "  was  kindly  but  not  enthusi 
astic  ;  he  apparently  regarded  Garrison's  propa- 


116       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

ganda  for  abolition  in  just  the  same  light  as  any 
other  humanitarian  effort,  —  as  that  for  tem 
perance,  for  example,  —  and,  ill  as  he  was  at 
the  time,  he  had  taken  no  share  in  the  formation 
of  the  New  England  Anti-Slavery  Society  in 

1832.  It  must  not  be  forgotten,  moreover,  that 
his  mind  was  so  set  on  political  preferment,  and 
he  apparently  had  so  clear  a  chance  of  represent 
ing  his  district  in  the  next  Congress,  that  he  was 
not  in  close  communication  with  his  non-political 
friends.     But  an  accident   brought  him  again 
under  Garrison's  direct  influence.     In  March, 

1833,  Garrison,  about  to  sail  for  England  on  the 
statesmanlike  mission  of  cutting  off  the  powerful 
British  support  given  his  arch-enemy,  the  Coloni 
zation  Society,  wrote  incidentally  to  some  young 
ladies  at  Haverhill :  — 

"  You  excite  my  curiosity  and  interest  still 
more  by  informing  me  that  my  dearly  beloved 
Whittier  is  a  friend  and  townsman  of  yours. 
Can  we  not  induce  him  to  devote  his  brilliant 
genius  more  to  the  advancement  of  our  cause, 
and  kindred  enterprises,  and  less  to  the  creations 
of  romance  and  fancy,  and  the  disturbing  inci 
dents  of  political  strife  ?  "  1 

"  You  think  my  influence  will  prevail  with  my 
dear  Whittier  more  than  yours.  I  think  other 
wise.  If  he  has  not  already  blotted  my  name 

1  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  i.  331,  March  4. 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          117 

from  the  tablet  of  his  memory,  it  is  because  his 
magnanimity  is  superior  to  neglect.  We  have 
had  no  correspondence  whatever,  for  more  than 
a  year,  with  each  other!  Does  this  look  like 
friendship  between  us?  And  yet  I  take  the 
blame  all  to  myself.  He  is  not  a  debtor  to  me 
—  I  owe  him  many  letters.  My  only  excuse  is 
an  almost  unconquerable  aversion  to  pen,  ink, 
and  paper  (as  well  he  knows),  and  the  numerous 
obligations  which  rest  upon  me,  growing  out  of 
my  connection  with  the  cause  of  emancipation. 
Pray  secure  his  forgiveness,  and  tell  him  that 
my  love  to  him  is  as  strong  as  was  that  of  David 
to  Jonathan.  Soon  I  hope  to  send  him  a  contrite 
epistle ;  and  I  know  he  will  return  a  generous 
pardon." l 

This  chance  correspondence  led  Garrison  to 
send  to  Whittier  (March  22,  1833)  a  letter 
apologizing  for  his  long  silence  and  urging  him 
to  turn  his  pen  to  philanthropic  and  particularly 
to  abolitionist  uses. 

"I  presume  you  have  been  busy  with  your 
pen  —  your  elastic,  vigorous,  glowing  pen  —  and 
are  preparing  to  surprise  and  delight  the  public. 
Study  to  make  your  productions  as  much  distin 
guished  for  their  usefulness  as  their  brilliancy, 
and  you  will  bless  mankind. 

"  My  brother,  there  are  upwards  of  two  million 

1  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  i.  331,  March  18. 


118       JOHN  GEEENLEAF  WHITTIER 

of  our  countrymen  who  are  doomed  to  the  most 
horrible  servitude  which  ever  cursed  our  race 
and  blackened  the  page  of  history.  There  are 
one  hundred  thousand  of  their  offspring  kid 
napped  annually  from  their  birth.  The  southern 
portion  of  our  country  is  going  down  to  destruc 
tion,  physically  and  morally,  with  a  swift  descent, 
carrying  other  portions  with  her.  This,  then,  is 
a  time  for  the  philanthropist  —  any  friend  of  his 
country,  to  put  forth  his  energies,  in  order  to  let 
the  oppressed  go  free,  and  sustain  the  republic. 
The  cause  is  worthy  of  Gabriel  —  yea,  the  God 
of  hosts  places  himself  at  its  head.  Whittier, 
enlist !  —  Your  talents,  zeal,  influence  —  all  are 
needed."  l 

Garrison  suggested  a  visit  to  Haverhill,  where 
Whittier,  as  he  requested,  found  him  a  meeting 
house  in  which  he  could  speak  on  slavery,  and 
on  April  3  Garrison  wrote  to  Miss  Harriet  Minot 
of  the  pleasure  the  trip  had  given  him.  "  But," 
he  concludes,  "  pleasant  as  it  is  to  behold  the  face 
of  Nature,  it  has  no  beauty  like  the  countenance 
of  a  beloved  friend.  Sweet  is  the  song  of  birds, 
but  sweeter  the  voices  of  those  we  love.  To  see 
my  dear  Whittier  once,  full  of  health  and  manly 
beauty,  was  pleasurable  indeed."  2 

1  Manuscript  in  the  possession  of  the  Misses  Johnson  and 
Mrs.  Woodman. 

2  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  i.  332. 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          119 

The  reference  to  David  and  Jonathan  was  not 
a  mere  figure  of  speech.  The  personal  intimacy 
between  the  two  young  men  had  never  been 
great,  but  there  existed  between  them  a  strong 
bond  of  friendship.  They  came  from  the  same 
district ;  they  had  the  same  humanitarian  in 
stincts.  Garrison  had  been  the  means  of  awak 
ening  Whittier's  desire  for  an  education  and 
later  of  leading  him  into  journalism,  and  his 
faith  in  Whittier's  ability  had  been  unfailing. 
"  Our  friend  Whittier,"  he  wrote  in  the  Benning- 
ton  "Journal  of  the  Times"  in  1828,  "seems 
determined  to  elicit  our  best  panegyrics,  and  not 
ours  only,  but  also  those  of  the  public.  His 
genius  and  situation  no  more  correspond  with 
each  other  than  heaven  and  earth.  But  let  him 
not  despair.  Fortune  will  come,  ere  long, '  with 
both  hands  full.'  "  l  Whittier  had  induced  Clay 
to  move  —  too  late,  as  it  happened  —  in  freeing 
Garrison  from  his  Baltimore  imprisonment,  and 
he  had  felt  for  him  and  his  reform  the  admira 
tion  expressed  in  his  verses  "  To  William  Lloyd 
Garrison,"  published  in  the  Haverhill  "  Gazette  " 
in  November,  1831 :  — 

"  I  love  thee  with  a  brother's  love, 

I  feel  my  pulses  thrill, 
To  mark  thy  spirit  soar  above 
The  cloud  of  human  ill. 

1  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  i.  115. 


120       JOHN  GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

My  heart  hath  leaped  to  answer  thine, 

And  echo  back  thy  words, 
As  leaps  the  warrior's  at  the  shine 

And  flash  of  kindred  swords  !  " 

They  were  now  to  work  side  by  side  in  the  abo 
lition  movement,  and  though  Garrison  was  from 
first  to  last  its  head  and  front,  Whittier  also 
played  an  important  part.  With  the  same  end 
in  view,  they  eventually  chose  widely  different 
but  equally  effective  means. 

Whittier  had  perhaps  already  made  up  his  mind 
to  join  the  anti-slavery  movement  before  Garri 
son's  brief  visit  to  Haverhill.  But  that  visit  must 
have  strengthened  his  purpose  and  hastened  the 
coming  of  the  sleepless  nights  which  overtook 
him  when  he  realized  what  effect  on  his  political 
aspirations  such  an  action  would  have.  "  Justice 
and  Expediency :  or,  Slavery  Considered  with  a 
View  to  its  Rightful  and  Effectual  Remedy, 
Abolition,"  was  published  in  June,  1833,  but  in 
May  he  wrote  to  Caleb  Cushing,  the  rising  poli 
tician  of  his  district,  the  following  letter,  char 
acteristic,  in  the  absence  of  exuberance  and  in  its 
mild-spoken  craft,  of  the  more  manly  mood  into 
which  he  had  now  entered :  — 

"  About  a  fortnight  ago,  I  took  up  a  pamphlet 
containing  your  remarks  at  the  colonization 
meeting  in  Boston.  In  that  frankness  which 
accords  with  my  ideas  of  doing  to  others  as  I 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          121 

would  be  done  by,  I  cannot  but  say  that  I  deeply 
regret  this  publication.  So  far  as  literary  merit 
is  concerned  the  speech  is  worthy  of  you,  but  I 
dissent  from  your  opinions  most  radically,  and 
so  do  a  great  majority  of  the  people  in  this 
vicinity.  I  shall  probably  send  you  in  a  week 
or  two  a  pamphlet  on  the  subject  of  slavery, 
written  hastily  and  under  many  disadvantages. 
Most  of  the  facts  it  contains  you  are  probably 
already  acquainted  with.  There  may  be  some, 
however,  which  have  escaped  your  observation. 
I  beg  of  you  to  lend  your  mind  to  the  investi 
gation  of  this  most  momentous  question,  believ 
ing  as  I  do  that  you  can  do  a  great  deal  for  the 
cause  of  suffering  humanity.  I  should  like  to  have 
you  make  this  pamphlet  and  others  recently  pub 
lished  on  the  subject  the  basis  of  an  article  in 
some  of  our  reviews  or  magazines.  That  you 
will  differ  from  me  I  know,  and  shall  therefore 
expect  to  be  handled  without  gloves,  but  credit 
me,  my  dear  sir,  I  had  much  rather  fall  under 
the  stoccado  of  a  gentlemanly  and  scientific 
swordsman  than  be  bunglingly  hewed  in  pieces 
like  Agag  of  old  under  the  broadaxe  of  the 
Prophet.  I  have  only  time  again  to  beg  you, 
whatever  may  be  the  result  of  this  trial,  to  allow 
yourself  to  be  a  candidate  still.  Sooner  or  later 
we  must  triumph." 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  126. 


122       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Garrison's  "  Thoughts  on  Colonization  "  had 
been  aimed  directly  at  the  organization  for  get 
ting  free  negroes  out  of  the  country,  which,  as 
he  clearly  saw,  was  the  greatest  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  the  new  movement ;  Wright's  "  Sin  of 
Slavery  "  was  directed  to  the  conscience  of  the 
community;  Mrs.  Child's  "Appeal"  was  the 
successful  attempt  of  a  popular  writer  to  place 
before  the  public  a  large  amount  of  necessary 
but  miscellaneous  information  about  the  negro, 
of  whose  abilities  she  entertained  somewhat 
romantic  ideas.  Whittier's  pamphlet,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  was  purely  and  simply  a 
political  tract.  In  the  solitude  of  his  farm  he 
had  been  studying  Burke  and  Milton,  and  the 
method  of  the  former  and  the  spirit  of  the  lat 
ter  had  impressed  him  deeply.1  His  idea  was 
to  make  a  telling  argument  in  favor  of  the  pro 
position  that  abolition  was  expedient  as  well  as 
just.  He  showed  briefly  that  colonization  was 
ineffective,  and  then  proceeded  to  prove  as  well 
as  he  could,  from  the  results  of  emancipation  in 
St.  Domingo  and  elsewhere,  that  "Historical 
facts ;  the  nature  of  the  human  mind ;  the  de 
monstrated  truths  of  political  economy  ;  the  ana- 

1  In  old  age  he  declared  that  his  whole  life  had  felt  the  in 
fluence  of  Milton's  writings  (Mrs.  Fields,  Whittier,  41)  and  his 
marked  copy  of  Milton's  political  essays  bears  witness  to  the 
same  fact. 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          123 

lysis  of  cause  and  effect,  all  concur  in  establish 
ing  :  1.  That  immediate  abolition  is  a  safe  and 
just  and  peaceful  remedy  for  evils  of  the  slave 
system.  2.  That  free  labor,  its  necessary  con 
sequence,  is  more  productive,  and  more  advan 
tageous  to  the  planter  than  slave  labor."  1 

To  the  modern  reader,  with  the  later  history 
of  Haiti  in  mind,  the  argument  is  anything  but 
conclusive.  It  is  plea  rather  than  proof.  Whit- 
tier  had  not  enough  evidence  at  his  disposal  to 
make  a  telling  argument.  Yet  his  attempt,  with 
all  its  lack  of  judicial  tone,  was  on  the  right 
track,  and  was  consonant  with  his  special  share  in 
the  abolition  movement,  —  an  insistence  on  the 
appeal  to  reason,  a  wish  to  reach  the  end  desired 
only  by  legal  means.  Immediate  emancipation, 
he  said,  was  merely  in  contrast  with  gradual 
emancipation :  — 

"  Earnestly  as  I  wish  it,  I  do  not  expect,  no 
one  expects,  that  the  tremendous  system  of 
oppression  can  be  instantaneously  overthrown. 
The  terrible  and  unrebukable  indignation  of  a 
free  people  has  not  yet  been  sufficiently  concen 
trated  against  it.  The  friends  of  abolition  have 
not  forgotten  the  peculiar  organization  of  our 
confederacy,  the  delicate  division  of  power  be 
tween  the  states  and  the  general  government. 
They  see  the  many  obstacles  in  their  pathway ; 

1  "  Justice  and  Expediency,"  in  Prose  Works,  iii.  34. 


124       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

but  they  know  that  public  opinion  can  overcome 
them  all.  They  ask  no  aid  of  physical  coercion. 
They  seek  to  obtain  their  object  not  with  the 
weapons  of  violence  and  blood,  but  with  those 
of  reason  and  truth,  prayer  to  God,  and  entreaty 
to  man." l 

Public  opinion,  expressed  through  the  suf 
frage,  was,  then,  to  be  the  means  of  emancipation. 
Nothing  but  a  strong,  unequivocal  expression  of 
public  sentiment  was  needed.  "  Let  Delaware 
begin  the  work,  and  Maryland  and  Virginia 
must  follow ;  the  example  will  be  contagious ; 
and  the  great  object  of  universal  emancipation 
will  be  attained." 

Whittier's  pamphlet  attracted  immediate  at 
tention.  He  had  published  five  hundred  copies 
at  his  own  expense,  thus  sacrificing  what  must 
have  been  the  savings  of  the  whole  winter ;  but 
through  the  kind  offices  of  Lewis  Tappan  of  New 
York,  it  was  reprinted  as  number  four,  volume 
one,  of  the  monthly  "  Anti-Slavery  Reporter,'* 
five  thousand  copies  of  which  were  distributed, 
and  it  was  also  printed  in  the  Providence  "  Jour 
nal."  The  Southern  papers  resented  this  new 
attempt  at  interference  with  their  local  social 
system,  and  the  Richmond  "  JefPersonian  and 
Times  "  introduced  an  extract  from  it  with  the 
statement  that  it  exhibited  "  in  strong  colors  the 

1  "  Justice  and  Expediency,"  in  Prose  Works,  iii.  26. 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         125 

morbid  spirit  of  false  and  fanatical  philanthropy 
which  is  at  work  in  the  Northern  states,  and,  to 
some  extent,  in  the  South."  Whittier's  reply, 
"  The  Abolitionists :  Their  Sentiments  and  Ob 
jects,"  1  published  in  the  Haverhill  "  Gazette," 
was  almost  as  long  as  the  original  pamphlet,  and 
was  in  most  respects  cautious  and  conciliatory. 
He  was  merely  "  a  humble  son  of  New  England, 
—  a  tiller  of  her  rugged  soil,"  and  it  mattered 
little  personally  whether  words  of  praise  or 
opprobrium  reached  him  from  beyond  the  nar 
row  limits  of  his  immediate  neighborhood.  His 
remarks  were,  at  that  busy  season  of  the  year, 
written  hastily  and  in  the  brief  intervals  of 
labor.  But  he  must  defend  his  cause  from  the 
charge  of  fanaticism,  and  he  went  on  to  review 
the  ground,  pointing  out  the  traditional  Vir 
ginian  desire  for  emancipation,  the  advantage 
to  her  in  emancipation,  and  the  reason  why  the 
rest  of  the  Union  was  vitally  concerned  in  her 
action,  and  was  therefore  protecting  its  own 
rights  rather  than  needlessly  interfering  in  the 
affairs  of  others. 

An  important  convert,  Whittier  was  now  fully 
committed  to  the  movement,  and  in  December 
of  the  same  year,  1833,  he  assisted  as  one  of  the 
delegates  from  Massachusetts  in  the  solemn 
founding,  in  Philadelphia,  of  the  American  Anti- 

1  Reprinted  in  Prose  Works,  iii.  58. 


126       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Slavery  Society.  "  I  set  a  higher  value  on  my 
name  as  appended  to  the  Anti-Slavery  Declara 
tion  of  1833,"  he  used  afterwards  to  say,  "  than 
on  the  title-page  of  any  book."  It  was  indeed 
an  honor  and  a  privilege.  It  confirmed  his  dedi 
cation  to  a  noble  cause,  and  set  him  apart,  once 
and  for  all,  from  the  selfish  individualism  of  the 
politician. 

The  men  with  whom  he  was  now  allied,  and 
their  fervor  of  conviction,  he  himself  best  de 
scribed  in  1874,  in  his  remarkably  vivid  "  Anti- 
Slavery  Convention  of  1833 :  "  J  — 

"  Looking  over  the  assembly,  I  noticed  that  it 
was  mainly  composed  of  comparatively  young 
men,  some  in  middle  age,  and  a  few  beyond  that 
period.  They  were  nearly  all  plainly  dressed, 
with  a  view  to  comfort  rather  than  elegance. 
Many  of  the  faces  turned  towards  me  wore  a 
look  of  expectancy  and  suppressed  enthusiasm. 
All  had  the  earnestness  which  might  be  expected 
of  men  engaged  in  an  enterprise  beset  with  diffi 
culty  and  perhaps  with  peril.  The  fine  intel 
lectual  head  of  Garrison,  prematurely  bald,  was 
conspicuous.  The  sunny-faced  young  man  at  his 
side,  in  whom  all  the  beatitudes  seemed  to  find 
expression,  was  Samuel  J.  May,  mingling  in  his 
veins  the  best  blood  of  the  Sewalls  and  Quincys, 
—  a  man  so  exceptionally  pure  and  large-hearted, 

1  Prose  Works,  iii.  171. 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          127 

so  genial,  tender,  and  loving,  that  he  could  be 
faithful  to  truth  and  duty  without  making  an 
enemy.  .  .  .  That  tall,  gaunt,  swarthy  man, 
erect,  eagle-faced,  upon  whose  somewhat  martial 
figure  the  Quaker  coat  seemed  a  little  out  of 
place,  was  Lindley  Coates,  known  in  all  eastern 
Pennsylvania  as  a  stern  enemy  of  slavery.  That 
slight,  eager  man,  intensely  alive  in  every  fea 
ture  and  gesture,  was  Thomas  Shipley,  who  for 
thirty  years  had  been  the  protector  of  the  free 
colored  people  of  Philadelphia,  and  whose  name 
was  whispered  reverently  in  the  slave  cabins  of 
Maryland  as  the  friend  of  the  black  man,  one 
of  a  class  peculiar  to  old  Quakerism,  who  in 
doing  what  they  felt  to  be  duty  and  walking  as 
the  Light  within  guided  them  knew  no  fear  and 
shrank  from  no  sacrifice.  Braver  men  the  world 
has  not  known.  Beside  him,  differing  in  creed, 
but  united  with  him  in  works  of  love  and  charity, 
sat  Thomas  Whitson,  of  the  Hicksite  school  of 
Friends,  fresh  from  his  farm  in  Lancaster 
County,  dressed  in  plainest  homespun,  his  tall 
form  surmounted  by  a  shock  of  unkempt  hair, 
the  odd  obliquity  of  his  vision  contrasting 
strongly  with  the  clearness  and  directness- of  his 
spiritual  insight.  Elizur  Wright,  the  young 
professor  of  a  Western  college,  who  had  lost  his 
place  by  his  bold  advocacy  of  freedom,  with  a 
look  of  sharp  concentration  in  keeping  with  an 


128       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

intellect  keen  as  a  Damascus  blade,  closely 
watched  the  proceedings  through  his  spectacles, 
opening  his  mouth  only  to  speak  directly  to  the 
purpose.  .  .  .  Vermont  sent  down  from  her 
mountains  Orson  S.  Murray,  a  man  terribly  in 
earnest,  with  a  zeal  that  bordered  on  fanaticism, 
and  who  was  none  the  more  genial  for  the  mob 
violence  to  which  he  had  been  subjected.  In 
front  of  me,  awakening  pleasant  associations  of 
the  old  homestead  in  Merrimac  valley,  sat  my 
first  school-teacher,  Joshua  Coffin,  the  learned 
and  worthy  antiquarian  and  historian  of  New- 
bury.  A  few  spectators,  mostly  of  the  Hicksite 
division  of  Friends,  were  present,  in  broad  brims 
and  plain  bonnets,  among  them  Esther  Moore 
and  Lucretia  Mott. 

"  The  reading  of  the  paper  [the  declaration 
of  principles]  was  followed  by  a  discussion  which 
lasted  several  hours.  A  member  of  the  Society 
of  Friends  moved  its  immediate  adoption.  '  We 
have,'  he  said,  '  all  given  it  our  assent :  every 
heart  here  responds  to  it.  It  is  a  doctrine 
of  Friends  that  these  strong  and  deep  impres 
sions  should  be  heeded.'  The  convention,  never 
theless,  deemed  it  important  to  go  over  the 
declaration  carefully,  paragraph  by  paragraph. 
During  the  discussion  one  of  the  spectators  asked 
leave  to  say  a  few  words.  A  beautiful  and 
graceful  woman  in  the  prime  of  life,  with  a  face 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          129 

beneath  her  plain  cap  as  finely  intellectual  as 
that  of  Madame  Roland,  offered  some  wise  and 
valuable  suggestions  in  a  clear,  sweet  voice,  the 
charm  of  which  I  have  never  forgotten.  It  was 
Lucretia  Mott  of  Philadelphia.  The  president 
courteously  thanked  her,  and  encouraged  her  to 
take  a  part  in  the  discussion.  On  the  morning 
of  the  last  day  of  our  session  the  declaration, 
with  its  few  verbal  amendments,  carefully  en 
grossed  on  parchment,  was  brought  before  the 
convention.  Samuel  J.  May  rose  to  read  it  for 
the  last  time.  His  sweet,  persuasive  voice  fal 
tered  with  the  intensity  of  his  emotions  as  he 
repeated  the  solemn  pledges  of  the  concluding 
paragraphs.  After  a  season  of  silence,  David 
Thurston  of  Maine  rose  as  his  name  was  called 
by  one  of  the  secretaries,  and  affixed  his  name 
to  the  document.  One  after  another  passed  up 
to  the  platform,  signed,  and  retired  in  silence. 
All  felt  the  deep  responsibility  of  the  occasion : 
the  shadow  and  forecast  of  a  lifelong  struggle 
rested  upon  every  countenance." 

The  abolitionists  now  grew  in  numbers  and 
strength  with  surprising  rapidity.  Every  man's 
hand  had  at  first  been  raised  against  them.  Pre 
sidents,  governors,  and  mayors  treated  them  as 
brawling  disturbers  of  the  national  peace.  The 
church  charged  them  with  disrespect  for  the 
divinely  established  order  of  the  world.  Citi- 


130       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

zens —  good  and  bad,  rich  and  poor  —  joined 
to  mob  them.  The  popular  fury  reached  its 
height  in  1835  and  1836.  When  Garrison 
visited  England  in  1833  he  had  not  only  broken 
the  back  of  the  interest  felt  there  for  the  absurd 
colonization  scheme,  but  had  roused  the  enthu 
siasm  of  George  Thompson,  an  eloquent  speaker 
who  had  done  much  to  bring  about  the  English 
emancipation  laws  and  who  was  now  willing  to 
devote  himself  to  a  corresponding  work  in  Amer 
ica.  When  he  arrived,  in  1834,  Americans  were 
furious.  They  were  angry  with  Garrison  for 
having  betrayed  his  country  by  insisting  on  her 
shame  in  his  English  addresses,  but  their  rage 
at  being  taught  their  duty  by  a  foreigner  was 
naturally  boundless.  An  Englishman,  one  of 
the  nation  against  whom  we  fought  for  freedom, 
teach  us  what  freedom  is  !  Rewards  were  said 
to  have  been  offered  for  his  life.  Certainly  he 
was  in  many  places  greeted  with  abuse  and  vio 
lence,  and  it  was  on  his  account  that  the  famous 
"broadcloth"  riot  of  1835  took  place,  in  which 
Boston  gentlemen  put  a  halter  round  Garrison's 
neck. 

But  events  moved  so  rapidly,  and  the  natural 
dislike  for  a  troublesome  reform  was  so  far 
counteracted  by  that  passion  for  free  speech 
which  is  the  basic  virtue  of  New  Englanders, 
that  by  1837  the  worst  of  popular  opposition 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          131 

was  past ;  and  in  the  reaction  of  the  public  mind 
that  followed  the  Lovejoy  murder  a  Faneuil 
Hall  meeting  was  held  in  which  the  abolitionists 
took  almost  the  place  of  honor.  By  this  time, 
too,  they  had  many  auxiliary  societies  and  many 
important  adherents.  Men  of  letters,  to  be  sure, 
were  still  lacking.  Longfellow  was  buried  in 
his  pleasant  books ;  Hawthorne  was  a  recluse ; 
Lowell  was  in  his  callow  years,  and  had  satirized 
the  abolitionists  in  his  class-day  poem ;  Emer 
son,  following  lines  of  more  abstract  thought, 
was  suspicious  of  mundane  reformers.  But  con 
stant  additions  were  being  made  to  the  ranks 
of  the  party;  and  when  in  1836  the  "great" 
Dr.  Channing  brought  out  his  carefully  consid 
ered  book  against  slavery,  —  weak  and  faltering 
though  it  was,  and  at  its  best  merely  a  repeti 
tion  of  what  the  abolitionists  had  been  saying 
since  1831,  —  the  ice  of  conservative  gentility 
was  first  broken. 

Just  when  the  horizon  was  thus  clearing  for 
the  abolitionists,  it  was  darkened  by  dissensions 
in  the  midst  of  their  own  body,  —  dissensions 
which  were  accompanied  by  bitterness  and  heated 
dispute  at  the  time,  and  which  were  thought  to 
be  a  source  of  weakness,  but  which,  after  the 
lapse  of  more  than  half  a  century,  we  now  recog 
nize  as  merely  divisions  due  to  natural  differ 
ences  of  motive  and  policy. 


132       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Garrison  was  the  last  of  the  great  Puritan 
prophets.  His  scheme  of  thought  and  action 
was  exclusively  moral  and  religious.  He  advo 
cated  many  reforms.  He  upheld  the  equal 
rights  of  women;  he  held  some  of  the  vague 
religious  doctrines  of  the  perfectionists ;  he 
looked  confidently  towards  a  millennium  of  right 
eousness  ;  he  was  a  non-combatant ;  he  regarded 
earthly  and  civic  governments  as  temporary 
evils  without  divine  sanction  ;  he  deprecated  the 
extreme  insistence  of  the  church  on  such  minor 
matters  as  the  keeping  of  the  Sabbath.  The 
greatest  moral  force  of  his  time,  he  was  rigorous 
in  his  condemnation  of  all  faltering  and  compro 
mise,  of  all  alliance  with  evil.  He  depended  for 
the  attainment  of  his  aims  on  the  moral  regen 
eration  of  man.  Around  him  as  their  leader, 
and  the  "  Liberator  "  as  their  standard,  gathered 
a  group  of  devoted  men  and  women,  —  Wendell 
Phillips,  Edmund  Quincy,  Mrs.  Chapman,  and 
Mrs.  Child,  — "the  Boston  clique,"  who  held 
fast  to  this  main  doctrine  of  emancipation 
through  the  moral  and  religious  education  of  the 
people.  As  time  went  on,  they  advocated  dis 
union,  and  explicitly  disavowed  allegiance  to  a 
government  that  permitted  slavery. 

Whittier,  on  the  other  hand,  showed  his  Quaker 
training.  His  family  and  his  sect  had  been  dis 
senters,  reformers,  and  "  come-outers  "  for  cen- 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          133 

turies,  and  he  took  things  more  quietly  and  more 
shrewdly.  The  world  was  not  all  to  be  reformed 
at  once.  One  thing  at  a  time.  The  main  end 
to  be  secured  at  that  moment  was  abolition ;  all 
other  reforms,  about  which  there  might  be  differ 
ence  of  opinion,  must  be  subordinated  to  it.  He 
acknowledged  Garrison  as  the  originator  of  the 
movement  and  its  greatest  force,  but  he  deplored 
his  terrible  earnestness  of  utterance,  which  per 
manently  alienated  his  opponents  ;  his  tendency 
to  obscure  the  main  issue  by  taking  up  minor 
reforms ;  his  refusal  to  entertain  the  idea  of 
political  coalition.  In  this  general  attitude  he 
was  in  accordance  with  the  more  common  feeling 
in  New  York  State  and  city  and  in  Philadelphia, 
and  in  particular  with  his  colleagues,  Elizur 
Wright,  Theodore  B.  Stanton,  and  Gerrit  Smith. 
This  difference  of  opinions  as  to  ways  and 
means  led  eventually  to  a  fairly  sharp  division  of 
abolitionists  into  two  classes  —  the  old  organiza 
tion  or  Garrisonians,  and  the  new  organization. 
The  first  split,  queerly  enough,  came  on  the  right 
or  advisability  of  women's  taking  a  prominent 
or  official  part  in  abolitionist  meetings.  Garri 
son  insisted  that  they  should  stand  on  the  same 
footing  as  men  and  encouraged  their  speaking. 
In  this  he  seemed  to  be  clearly  on  the  right  side, 
for  many  of  the  important  abolitionists  were 
women.  But  the  public  was  not  yet  accustomed 


134       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

to  the  idea  of  women's  concerning  themselves  in 
matters  of  state,  and  Whittier  and  his  friends 
were  anxious  that  obloquy  should  not  fall  on  the 
cause  on  this  account.  As  for  himself,  he  was 
not  unaccustomed,  through  Quaker  custom,  to 
the  equality  of  the  sexes  in  important  matters ; 
and  though  he  thought  it  better  that  women 
should  confine  themselves  mainly  to  domestic 
affairs  and  avoid  undue  publicity,  his  objection 
was  largely  the  prudent  one  of  a  desire  not  to 
give  offense.  He  would  have  had  abolitionism 
win  its  way,  unencumbered,  to  the  hearts  of  the 
people.  When,  therefore,  in  1837  the  General 
Association  of  Orthodox  Congregational  churches 
in  Massachusetts  published  a  Pastoral  Letter, 
claiming  for  the  parish  minister  the  exclusive 
right  of  determining  what  moral  teachings  should 
be  addressed  to  the  people  of  his  town,  and  sin 
gling  out  for  censure  the  practice  of  lecturing 
by  women,  Whittier,  though  he  satirized  the 
clerical  position  in  spirited  verses,  was  inclined 
to  think  that  his  predictions  had  been  justified. 
Indeed,  when  the  New  England  Anti-Slavery 
Society  and  the  American  Anti-Slavery  Society 
adopted  Garrison's  views  on  the  subject  of 
women,  and  held  more  rigidly  aloof  from  con 
certed  political  action,  he  joined  with  those  who 
preferred  to  cut  loose  from  Garrison's  influence 
and  direction  and  to  form  an  organization  of 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          135 

their  own.  By  1839  a  considerable  body  in  cen 
tral  New  York,  of  whom  Stanton  was  chief,  fa 
vored  the  formation  of  a  political  anti-slavery 
party.  That  year  saw  the  establishment  of  a 
new  paper  in  Boston,  the  "  Massachusetts  Aboli 
tionist,"  which  was  the  organ  of  the  new  Massa 
chusetts  Abolitionist  Society,  and  the  next  saw 
the  formation  of  a  third  political  party  through 
a  convention  held  at  Albany.  In  the  same  year 
the  American  Anti-Slavery  Society,  the  old  or 
ganization,  disapproved  political  action  and  ap 
proved  women's  rights,  insisting  on  sending 
women  as  delegates  to  the  World's  Anti-Slavery 
Convention  in  London. 

With  the  main  steps  in  this  political  and 
philanthropic  movement  clearly  in  mind,  we  may 
now  turn  to  Whittier's  part  in  it,  and  to  his 
more  individual  life,  if  he  can  be  said  to  have 
had  an  individuality  at  all  in  a  period  when  body 
and  soul  alike  had  no  inspiration  and  no  duty 
save  that  of  devotion  to  a  cause. 

The  change  back  to  the  old  soil  and  the  home 
life  gave  him  strength  again.  The  tone  of  com 
plaint  and  despair  disappeared  from  his  letters  ; 
the  selfish  note  of  purely  personal  ambition  van 
ished.  Though  frequently  prostrated  by  illness, 
it  was  clear  that  his  health  was  essentially  better 
while  he  lived  on  the  farm  and  as  a  farmer.  To 
a  friend  he  wrote  in  1833  that  he  was  as  busy 


136       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

with  his  farm  as  a  beaver  building  his  dam  and 
that  the  blues  had  left  him.  It  was  a  life  of  se 
vere  economy,  of  meagre  results,  but  it  kept  the 
brain  clear  for  his  great  purpose,  and  left  him  the 
long  evenings  free  for  his  writing ;  and  it  is  plea 
sant  to  think  of  this  handsome  young  Quaker, 
with  his  flashing  eyes  and  military  bearing,  driv 
ing  "  his  team  in  the  autumn  to  Rocks  Bridge, 
which  is  at  the  head  of  tidewater  in  the  Merrimac, 
where  the  coasting  vessels  from  Maine  then  came, 
carrying  apples  and  vegetables  to  exchange  for 
salt  fish  to  eke  out  the  winter  stores."  1 

But  it  was  only  by  heroic  endeavor  that  he 
could  serve  his  cause.  On  February  25,  1834, 
he  writes  thus  to  Elizur  Wright,  then  secretary 
of  the  American  Anti-Slavery  Society,  explain 
ing  his  policy  as  a  free  lance  :  — 

"  Situated  as  I  am,  I  can  at  present  do  but 
little.  I  cannot  as  yet  accuse  myself  of  neg 
lecting  any  opportunity  for  the  dissemination  of 
truth  on  the  great  subject  of  slavery.  The 
clergy  in  this  vicinity  are  rapidly  taking  side 
with  us.  There  is  another  class  which  might,  I 
think,  be  easily  moved.  I  allude  to  that  class 
of  politicians  or  civilians  whose  sphere  of  influ 
ence  is  limited  to  their  town  or  county.  These 
can  take  hold  of  our  cause  without  essentially 
endangering  their  popularity,  and  through  them 

1  F.  H.  Underwood,  John  Greenleaf  Whittier,  137. 


THE  YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          137 

the  higher  classes  of  our  statesmen  may  be 
reached.  I  have  some  influence  with  this  class. 
My  exertions  as  a  political  writer  for  the  last 
four  years  have  gained  me  a  large  number  of 
political  friends.  The  columns  of  all  the  lead 
ing  newspapers  are  open  to  me.  With  many  of 
the  editors  I  am  on  terms  of  intimate  personal 
acquaintance.  All  know  me  as  a  quondam  bro 
ther,  as  a  political  friend  or  opponent.  Now  if 
I  were  at  leisure  to  reply  to  such  misrepresenta 
tions  and  charges  as  occasionally  appear  in  these 
papers,  to  distribute  pamphlets  and  papers,  to 
visit  personally  gentlemen  in  my  vicinity  and 
engage  their  cooperation,  and  finally  to  com 
bine  the  anti-slavery  feeling  upon  some  definite 
and  practical  object,  such,  for  instance,  as  the 
election  of  members  of  the  state  legislature, 
who  will  bring  forward  and  sustain  resolutions 
instructing  our  congressional  delegation  to  urge 
the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  District  of  Colum 
bia, —  I  have  no  doubt  I  could  do  good  and  effi 
cient  service. 

"  But  I  have  really  little  leisure  for  such  ex 
ertions.  In  the  first  place,  my  brother  and  my 
self  are  almost  constantly  engaged  in  the  affairs 
of  our  small  farm,  which  does  not  yield  profit 
enough  to  enable  us  to  hire  labor;  and  I  am 
obliged  to  occupy  my  evenings  and  other  leisure 
time  in  writing  occasional  literary  articles  for 


138       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

the  '  New  England  Magazine/  for  which  I  am 
paid.  Besides  this,  I  have  felt  myself  under  the 
necessity  of  applying  myself  to  the  study  of  con 
stitutional  law,  political  economy,  etc.  What 
ever  I  have  written  on  the  subject  of  slavery  has 
been  by  an  effort  of  extra  exertion,  and  under 
circumstances  of  haste  and  constant  interruption. 

"Now,  if  the  Executive  Committee  of  the 
American  Anti-Slavery  Society  could  assure  me 
for  the  term  of  six  months  the  sum  of  $150,  I 
should  be  able  to  bend  all  the  energies  which  God 
has  given  me  to  the  great  work  before  us ;  and 
I  fully  believe  that  at  the  end  of  that  time  we 
shall  be  able  to  lend  both  moral  and  pecuniary 
strength  to  the  National  Society.  I  have  speci 
fied  that  sum  as  the  smallest  which  could  possi 
bly  meet  my  expenses,  as  I  should  be  compelled 
to  travel  considerably  from  home,  and  owing  to 
the  consequent  interruption  of  my  labor  on  the 
farm,  I  should  be  under  the  necessity  of  hiring 
a  person  to  supply  my  place. 

"  I  have  been  induced  to  make  this  proposal 
from  a  sincere  desire  of  aiding  in  the  advance 
ment  of  a  righteous  cause.  I  have  recently  had 
an  offer,  highly  favorable  in  a  pecuniary  point  of 
view,  to  take  charge  of  a  political  newspaper; 
but  should  I  accept  it,  my  mouth  would  be  closed 
on  the  subject  nearest  my  heart."  l 

1  S.  T.  Pickard,  Whittier  as  a  Politician  (Boston,  1900),  47. 


THE  YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          139 

The  period  of  return  to  mother  earth  was  only 
just  sufficient  to  gain  strength  and  courage.  In 
1835  he  was  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts 
legislature,  and  he  was  reflected  for  1836 ;  but 
his  new-found  health  was  still  precarious,  and 
he  had  learned  that  long  days  of  regular  labor 
were  never  more  to  lie  in  his  power.  He  could 
accomplish  much,  but  it  must  be  in  his  own  way, 
at  his  own  hours.  And  so  he  turned  to  less 
rigid  duties,  to  service  of  many 'sorts  in  behalf 
of  his  cause,  which  we  must  now  describe. 

These  services  were  sometimes  of  a  kind  that 
demanded  physical  as  well  as  moral  courage. 
While  George  Thompson  was  lecturing  in  New 
England,  Whittier  secreted  him  for  a  fortnight 
at  his  house  from  mob  violence,  and  afterwards 
shared  with  him  the  perils  then  attendant  upon 
free  speech  on  the  subject  of  abolition  in  a 
New  England  city.  The  incident  has  been 
vividly  described  by  Whittier's  cousin,  Mrs. 
Cartland :  — 

..."  Thinking  themselves  secure  because 
personally  unknown,  the  two  friends  drove  to 
Plymouth,  N.  H.,  to  visit  Nathaniel  P.  Rogers, 
a  prominent  abolitionist.  On  their  way  they 
stopped  for  the  night  in  Concord,  at  the  house  of 
George  Kent,  who  was  a  brother-in-law  of  Rog 
ers.  After  they  had  gone  on  their  way,  Kent 
attempted  to  make  preparations  for  an  anti-slav- 


140       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

ery  meeting  to  be  held  when  they  should  return. 
There  was  furious  excitement,  and  neither  church, 
chapel,  nor  hall  could  be  hired  for  the  purpose. 
On  their  arrival  Whittier  walked  out  with  a 
friend  in  the  twilight,  leaving  Thompson  in  the 
house,  and  soon  found  himself  and  friend  sur 
rounded  by  a  mob  of  several  hundred  persons, 
who  assailed  them  with  stones  and  bruised  them 
somewhat  severely.  They  took  refuge  in  the 
house  of  Colonel  Kent,  who,  though  not  an 
abolitionist,  protected  them  and  baffled  the  mob. 
From  thence  Whittier  made  his  way  with  some 
difficulty  to  George  Kent's,  where  Thompson 
was.  The  mob  soon  surrounded  the  house  and 
demanded  that  Thompson  and  'the  Quaker' 
should  be  given  up.  Through  a  clever  strata 
gem  the  mob  was  decoyed  away  for  a  while,  but 
soon  discovering  the  trick,  it  returned,  reinforced 
with  muskets  and  a  cannon,  and  threatened  to 
blow  up  the  house  if  the  abolitionists  were  not 
surrendered. 

"  A  small  company  of  anti-slavery  men  and 
women  had  met  that  evening  at  George  Kent's, 
among  whom  were  two  nieces  of  Daniel  Webster, 
daughters  of  his  brother  Ezekiel.  All  agreed 
that  the  lives  of  Whittier  and  Thompson  were 
in  danger,  and  advised  that  an  effort  should  be 
made  to  escape.  The  mob  filled  the  street,  a 
short  distance  below  the  gate  leading  to  Kent's 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          141 

house.  A  horse  was  quietly  harnessed  in  the 
stable,  and  was  led  out  with  the  vehicle  under 
the  shadow  of  the  house,  where  Whittier  and 
Thompson  stood  ready.  It  was  bright  moon 
light,  and  they  could  see  the  gun-barrels  gleam 
ing  in  the  street  below  them.  The  gate  was 
suddenly  opened,  the  horse  was  started  at  a  furi 
ous  gallop,  and  the  two  friends  drove  off  amidst 
the  yells  and  shots  of  the  infuriated  crowd. 
They  left  the  city  by  the  way  of  Hookset  Bridge, 
the  other  avenues  being  guarded,  and  hurried  in 
the  direction  of  Haverhill.  In  the  morning  they 
stopped  to  refresh  themselves  and  their  tired 
horse.  While  at  breakfast  they  found  that  4  ill 
news  travels  fast,'  and  gets  worse  as  it  goes ; 
for  the  landlord  told  them  that  there  had  been 
an  abolition  meeting  at  Haverhill  the  night  be 
fore,  and  that  George  Thompson,  the  English 
man,  and  a  young  Quaker  named  Whittier,  who 
had  brought  him,  were  both  so  roughly  handled 
that  they  would  never  wish  to  talk  abolition 
again.  When  the  guests  were  about  to  leave, 
Whittier,  just  as  he  was  stepping  into  the  car 
riage,  said  to  the  landlord, '  My  name  is  Whittier, 
and  this  is  George  Thompson.'  The  man  opened 
his  eyes  and  mouth  with  wonder  as  they  drove 
away."  l 

But,  as  a  rule,  Whittier's  life  was  less  full 

1  F.  H.  Underwood,  Whittier,  116. 


142       JOHH  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

of  excitement.  He  acted  in  his  district  as  an 
agent  of  the  New  England  Anti-Slavery  Society. 
In  1836  he  was  again  for  some  time  editor 
of  the  Haverhill  "Gazette."  In  1837  he  was 
successively  in  Harrisburg,  Penn.,  at  an  anti- 
slavery  state  convention ;  in  Boston,  engaged  in 
lobbying  an  important  measure  through  the 
legislature;  and  in  New  York  as  one  of  the 
secretaries  of  the  American  Anti-Slavery  Soci 
ety.  In  the  last  city  he  spent  several  months, 
occupying  an  office  in  which  James  G.  Birney, 
Theodore  D.  Weld,  Elizur  Wright,  and  others 
had  desks.  Together  they  edited  the  "  Emanci 
pator  "  and  the  "  Anti-Slavery  Reporter,"  wrote 
appeals  to  public  men,  distributed  petitions, 
wrote  tracts,  and  helped  fugitive  slaves  on  the 
"  underground  railroad."  He  boarded  in  Brook 
lyn,  where  he  had  a  pleasant  circle  of  friends, 
and  he  naturally  saw  much  of  his  ardent  young 
associates  in  reform.  His  eagerness  kept  pace 
with  theirs,  and  it  is  related  that  on  one  evening 
Mr.  Weld  and  he  were  so  engrossed  in  discussion 
that  it  was  nearly  daybreak  before  they  parted. 
In  March,  1838,  he  again  changed  his  quarters, 
assuming  charge  of  the  new  "  Pennsylvania 
Freeman,"  an  abolitionist  organ  published  in 
Philadelphia,  in  continuation  of  the  "  National 
Enquirer,"  of  which  the  aged  Benjamin  Lundy 
had  just  resigned  the  control.  Philadelphia  was 


THE  YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          143 

undergoing  its  period  of  mob  rule.  In  May,  at 
the  close  of  the  dedication  exercises  of  Pennsyl 
vania  Hall,  a  handsome  building  devoted  to  the 
purposes  of  the  cause,  it  was  seized,  sacked,  and 
burned  by  the  citizens,  with  the  connivance  of 
the  city  authorities.  "Whittier  had  his  office  in 
this  building,  and,  disguised  in  a  wig  and  a  long 
white  overcoat,  he  mingled  with  the  mob  and 
succeeded  in  saving  some  of  his  effects.  Fortu 
nately  the  printing  offices  were  not  in  the  build 
ing,  and  the  paper  continued  to  appear  as  usual. 
Whittier  found  old  friends  and  new  in  Phila 
delphia,  and  as  in  New  York  led  a  more  active 
life  than  was  permitted  to  him  later.  He  re 
mained  until  October,  breaking  his  editorial 
duties  by  short  journeys  in  the  service  of  the 
cause.  Then  came  a  few  months  at  home  for 
recuperation,  for  his  strength  was  again  break 
ing,  though  he  still  continued  as  editor.  In 
April,  1839,  he  returned  to  Philadelphia;  in 
June  he  attended  the  national  political  anti- 
slavery  convention  in  Albany,  and  in  January, 
1840,  visited  Washington,  where  the  great  debate 
on  the  right  of  petition  was  then  going  on.  But 
in  February  he  was  forced  by  alarming  illness  to 
give  up  his  work  again,  this  time  virtually  for 
ever.  His  heart  was  seriously  affected,  and  it 
was  only  in  the  quiet  surroundings  of  his  native 
district,  and  in  the  calm  old  life,  that  he  was 


144       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

master  of  what  little  strength  remained  to  him. 
And  thus  ended  the  second  flight  into  the  outer 
world,  the  second  attempt  to  meet  face  to  face 
the  great  forces  of  the  passionate  city  centres, 
closing  like  the  first  in  physical  defeat. 

Meantime  the  old  farm  had  in  1836  been 
given  up.  Whittier' s  brother  was  married  and 
gone.  Whittier  himself  was  unequal  to  the 
management,  and  the  toil  and  trouble  were  dis 
proportionate  to  the  meagre  returns.  After 
nearly  two  centuries  of  occupancy,  therefore, 
the  land  passed  into  the  hands  of  strangers,  and 
a  pleasant  little  house  was  bought  on  Friend 
Street,  in  the  delightful  manufacturing  village 
of  Amesbury,  which  lies  a  few  miles  to  the  east 
ward,  where  near  the  sea  the  boisterous  Powow 
dashes  into  the  Merrimac.  The  sunshiny  house, 
with  its  pretty  garden,  stood  close  by  the 
Friends'  meeting-house,  which  the  Whittiers  had 
always  attended  while  they  lived  on  the  farm, 
and  the  removal  was  to  a  community  so  kindred 
that  it  could  scarcely  have  seemed  a  radical 
change. 

It  was  a  strange  band  of  workers  with  whom 
Whittier  had  been  brought  into  contact  in  these 
years  of  lobbying  and  pamphleteering  and  jour 
nalism.  In  his  Hartford  sojourn  he  had  seen 
something  of  "  worldly  "  life,  of  much  that  was 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          145 

opposite  in  tendency  to  his  quietist  training; 
and  the  glimpse,  though  it  tended  to  unsettle 
his  mind,  was  good  for  him,  as  it  was  good  for 
him  to  imagine  himself  in  love  with  a  woman  of 
another  creed  and  another  social  circle.  Such 
associations,  disquieting  at  first,  would  have 
eventually  added  to  his  natural  breadth  and 
toleration  of  mind,  led  him  to  know  the  world 
better,  given  his  verse  a  richness  which  it  never 
attained.  But  with  his  illness,  the  giving  up 
of  his  political  ambition,  and  his  devotion  to 
what  seemed  a  futile  cause,  the  bounds  of  his  ac 
quaintance  were  again  straitened.  He  knew  only 
reformers,  and  for  twenty  years  or  more  after 
his  return  to  Amesbury  there  is  scarcely  to  be 
found  among  his  new  friends  a  single  person 
from  the  greater  outer  world,  save  such  as  were 
enlisted  in  his  own  reform  or  in  some  kindred 
one.  These  reformers  were  in  many  ways  the 
pick  of  the  nation,  men  and  women  with  brains 
capable  of  conceiving  a  new  order  of  things,  and 
wills  strong  enough  to  try  to  bend  the  hard  world 
itself  to  their  purpose.  Their  energy  was  tre 
mendous,  but  they  lived  in  the  future,  neglect 
ing  the  present,  sacrificing  even  the  innocent 
delights  of  life  in  their  almost  hypnotic  devotion 
to  a  fixed  idea.  After  reading  many  of  their 
biographies,  I  may  perhaps  single  out  this  pas 
sage,  from  the  work  of  a  dispassionate  observer, 


146       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

as  most  characteristic  of  the  temper  and  mood 
of  the  men  and  women  in  Boston,  New  York,  and 
Philadelphia  with  whom  Whittier  was  brought 
into  close  contact :  — 

"Angelina  E.  Grimke  was  married,  in  the 
spring  of  1838,  to  Theodore  D.  Weld,  one  of 
the  forty  seceders  from  Lane  Seminary.  The 
devotion  of  these  ladies  to  the  cause  they  have 
espoused  is  a  devotion  for  life.  They  give  their 
all  to  it,  —  not  only  their  time  and  labor,  not 
only  their  slave  property,  but  all  their  resources. 
They  are  now  living  on  the  Hudson,  about  ten 
miles  from  New  York,  thinking  the  bare  support 
of  life  enough,  since  it  is  sufficient  for  their 
object.  They  have  no  servant,  and  they  have 
long  given  up  meat,  tea,  and  coffee.  The  saving 
of  time  is  as  much  an  object  with  them  in  this 
as  economy  of  money.  Their  office  is  to  collect 
and  publish  evidence  (for  which  their  former 
experience  as  slaveholders  fits  them)  relating 
to  the  whole  system  of  slavery.  They  are  thus 
pretty  constantly  employed  in  writing.  The 
family  sit  at  their  desks  till  within  five  minutes 
of  the  dinner  or  supper  hour.  One  of  the  ladies 
goes  down  to  prepare  the  table,  and  rings  the 
bell  as  the  hour  strikes,  when  the  rest  descend 
to  their  cheerful  meal,  thus  easily  prepared.  It 
is  thought  probable  that,  without  such  a  change 
in  their  mode  of  living,  persons  who  had  been 


THE  YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          147 

brought  up  in  the  climate,  and  amidst  the  lux 
urious  indulgences  of  the  Southern  states,  would 
have  soon  sunk  under  the  toils  and  excitements 
which  these  ladies  have  sustained,  —  thus  far, 
thank  God !  without  injury  to  the  health  of  body 
or  mind."  1 

Such  exalted  altruism  makes  saints  and 
martyrs,  and  we  are  grateful  for  it ;  but  it  also 
makes  a  multitude  of  eccentric,  ill-balanced 
individuals,  who  are  of  little  real  and  lasting 
service  to  the  community ;  and  if  from  this  band 
of  enthusiasts  and  from  their  common  cause 
Whittier  drew  the  fervor  and  intensity  of  his 
verse  in  this  period,  we  must  notice  that  from 
the  same  source  came  its  narrow  range,  its  lack 
of  wide  human  sympathy,  its  aesthetic  poverty. 
The  reformer  was  killing  the  poet.  Yet  in  these 
years  of  earnest  companionship  with  disinterested 
enthusiasts  we  find  traces  of  friendships  with 
women  standing  just  outside  the  abolitionist  cir 
cles  —  with  Miss  Elizabeth  Lloyd,  Jr.,  the  au 
thor  of  "  Milton  on  his  Blindness,"  to  whom  there 
attached,  in  the  hearts  of  the  Quaker  girls  of 
Philadelphia,  "a  special  glamour  because  she 
was  understood  to  be  one  of  the  few  with  whom 
Whittier  was  really  on  terms  of  warm  personal 
friendship,  outside  of  his  firm  and  faithful  com- 

1  Harriet  Martineau,  "  The  Martyr  Age  of  the  United 
States,"  London  and  Westminster  Review,  December,  1838. 


148       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

radeship  with  his  anti-slavery  friends ;  "  l  and 
with  Miss  Lucy  Hooper,  a  young  author  of  much 
sentimental  verse,  a  native  of  Newburyport,  who 
was  living  in  Brooklyn,  and  to  whom  he  was 
thought  at  one  time  to  be  engaged.  Such  traces 
of  real  human  feeling  show  that  his  old  suscepti 
bility  to  feminine  charm  was  not  destroyed  even 
by  his  humanitarian  passions. 

During  this  period  of  origins,  Whittier  was 
in  three  ways  of  material  assistance  to  the  cause 
he  espoused,  —  as  a  politician,  as  a  journalist, 
and  as  a  poet. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Whittier' s  health  would 
have  stood  the  strain  of  a  political  career,  for 
which  he  was  in  many  ways  admirably  fitted. 
His  one  year  of  service  in  the  Massachusetts 
legislature  broke  him  down,  and  though  he 
was  reflected  he  could  not  serve.  But  while 
not  again  holding  office,  he  was  of  great  service 
in  political  matters.  He  knew  the  leading  men 
in  the  local  and  national  machines,  and  was  in 
frequent  correspondence  with  them  ;  and  he  used 
the  fact  that  anti-slavery  men  held  the  balance 
of  power  in  his  district  to  pledge  Caleb  Gushing 
to  action  in  their  behalf  in  order  to  secure  elec 
tion  in  1834  and  1836. 

1  Reminiscences  of  Miss  Susan  E.  Dickinson,  in  Pickard's 
Life,  i.  216. 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          149 

"  I  am  disappointed,"  he  wrote  to  Gushing  from 
Newburyport,  in  1834,  "  in  not  seeing  thee  at 
this  place  and  this  time,  as  I  called  to  apprise 
thee  of  the  fact  that  at  our  meeting  of  the  Essex 
County  Anti-Slavery  Society  yesterday  at  Dan- 
vers,  it  was  unanimously  agreed  upon  to  write 
letters  to  the  candidates  for  Congress  and  state 
legislature  on  the  subject  of  slavery  and  of  their 
views  of  action  in  Congress  and  in  the  legisla 
ture  upon  it.  Until  after  the  passage  of  this  re 
solution  I  did  not  reflect  that  it  would  embrace 
thyself  and  Osgood  [his  Democratic  opponent], 
as  we  were  thinking  of  Saltonstall  and  Rantoul 
[in  the  other  Essex  district].  As  it  is,  however, 
I  hope  thee  will  favor  the  Society  with  an  ex 
plicit  answer,  as  the  one  hundred  and  twenty 
delegates  present  pledged  themselves  to  vote  for 
no  man  of  any  party  who  was  not  in  favor  of 
abolition  in  the  District  of  Columbia.  I  heard, 
too,  from  a  gentleman  in  the  meeting  that  two 
or  three  hundred  of  the  legal  voters  of  Lowell 
have  pledged  themselves  to  this  effect."  l 

Cushing,  once  elected,  held  to  his  word,  and 
regularly  presented  the  abolitionist  petitions  for 
doing  away  with  slavery  in  the  District  of  Colum 
bia,  and  upheld  Adams  in  his  opposition  to 
gag-rule.  In  1838,  while  Whittier  was  in  Phila 
delphia,  Cushing  tried  to  avoid  pledging  himself 
1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  173. 


150       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

again,  but  Whittier  returned  in  season  to  take 
the  management  of  affairs  into  his  own  hands. 
The  result  is  best  described  by  Mr.  Pickard : l  — 
"  Gushing  declined  to  pledge  himself  to  spe 
cific  measures,  saying,  '  I  cling  to  my  personal 
independence  as  the  choicest  and  richest  of  all 
possessions.  I  will  take  my  place  in  Congress 
as  a  freeman  or  not  at  all,  pledged  only  to  Truth, 
Liberty,  and  the  Constitution,  with  no  terror  be 
fore  my  eyes  but  the  terror  to  do  wrong.  Thus, 
or  not  at  all,  will  I  reascend  the  giant  stairs  of 
the  Capitpl.'  Whittier  was  determined  to  get 
a  more  explicit  pledge  or  prevent  his  election. 
At  his  suggestion,  his  friend  Henry  B.  Stanton 
read  Cushing's  letter  and  commented  upon  it  in 
a  humorous  and  caustic  way,  and  the  conven-f 
tion  adjourned  without  any  action  in  his  favor. 
Cushing,  who  was  anxious  to  secure  the  Lib 
erty  vote,  was  in  a  corner  of  the  gallery  while 
his  communication  was  being  criticised.  In  the 
evening  he  met  Whittier  at  the  hotel,  and  ex 
pressed  his  chagrin  at  the  reception  given  his 
careful  letter.  He  said,  'What  shall  I  do?' 
Whittier  replied,  4  Thee  cannot  expect  the  votes 
of  our  people,  unless  thee  speaks  more  plainly.' 
'But  how  can  I  do  that  now?'  said  Cushing. 
Whittier  suggested, '  Write  a  short  letter  to  me, 
and  do  not  hide  thy  meaning  under  many  words.' 
1  Life,  i.  181. 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          151 

Gushing  did  not  feel  like  doirig  it,  but  said  at 
length,  '  Let  me  see  you  in  the  morning.'  Whit- 
tier  was  to  leave  for  home  by  stage  quite  early, 
and  promised  to  call  for  Gushing.  He  found 
the  anxious  statesman  half  dressed  and  waiting 
for  him.  He  had  decided  to  sign  any  letter  that 
"VVhittier  would  write.  Whittier  thereupon  wrote 
the  short  letter  that  follows,  which  Gushing 
copied  and  signed,  and  it  was  sent  to  all  parts 
of  the  Essex  district  by  special  messengers :  — 

SALEM,  November  8,  1838. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, —  I  should  regret  to  have  any 
doubt  remain  on  your  mind  as  to  the  import  of 
those  points  of  my  letter  which  are  referred  to 
by  you.  In  respect  to  the  District  of  Columbia, 
I  am  in  favor  of  the  abolition  of  slavery  and  the 
slave  trade  therein,  by  the  earliest  practicable 
legislation  of  Congress,  regard  being  had  for  the 
just  rights  of  all  classes  of  the  citizens,  and  I 
intended  to  be  so  understood. 

In  the  concluding  part  of  the  letter,  I  stated 
that  I  felt  bound  to  withhold  stipulation  in  detail, 
as  to  my  future  course  in  Congress.  But  I  did 
not  design  it  to  be  understood  that  I  entertained 
any  desire  or  disposition  to  change  my  course  in 
regard  to  the  subjects  embraced  in  the  letter ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  being  resolved  to  continue 
to  maintain  on  all  suitable  occasions,  as  I  have 


152       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

heretofore  done$  the  principles  and  spirit  of  the 
resolves  of  the  legislature  of  Massachusetts,  ap 
pertaining  to  the  right  of  petition,  and  to  slavery 
and  the  slave  trade,  in  their  various  relations. 
I  am,  very  faithfully,  yours, 

CALEB  GUSHING. 

To  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER,  Esq. 

In  1840  Gushing  avoided  the  pledge  and 
managed  to  secure  election.  But  in  1841,  when 
the  Whigs  came  into  power,  and  he  was  anxious 
to  become  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  Whittier 
took  pains  to  republish  the  letter  of  1838,  which 
identified  him  to  some  extent  with  the  abolition 
ists,  and  it  is  believed  that  this  was  instrumental 
in  procuring  his  defeat  in  the  Senate,  where  the 
nomination  was  three  times  rejected.  Whittier' s 
object  was  not  the  gratification  of  spite,  but  a 
conviction  that  Gushing  was  a  dangerous  man  to 
hold  office. 

In  many  other  ways  Whittier  thus  helped  to 
forward  the  propaganda.  Shrewd  and  intelli 
gent,  an  excellent  judge  of  affairs,  and  a  master 
of  the  ins  and  outs  of  political  intrigue,  he  was 
for  years  almost  the  only  one  of  the  abolitionists 
bent  on  gaining  an  inch  here  and  an  inch  there 
in  a  strictly  practical  fashion.  Moral  action 
apart  from  political  action  he  thought  an  absurd 
ity.  With  a  genius  for  coalition  and  the  art  of 


THE  YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         153 

playing  on  the  hopes  and  fears  of  politicians,  he 
was  a  familiar  figure  in  the  lobby  of  the  Massa 
chusetts  legislature,  and  in  1837  took  an  active 
part  in  the  campaign  which  induced  that  body, 
anything  but  abolitionist  at  heart,  to  move  di 
rectly  in  the  interests  of  abolitionists  by  cen 
suring  Van  Buren's  lordly  message  calling  for  a 
cessation  of  anti-slavery  discussion.  In  no  form 
of  action,  however,  did  he  show  himself  more 
astute  than  in  the  clever  and  earnest  letters  he 
wrote  to  political  leaders,  explaining  to  them 
why  it  would  be  to  their  advantage,  and  not  out 
of  accord  with  the  fundamental  principles  of 
their  party,  to  further  the  abolitionist  movement 
in  one  way  or  another. 

It  was  in  this  politic  fashion  that  he  addressed 
Henry  Clay,  who  had  been  the  idol  of  his  youth 
ful  ambitions : l  — 

NEW  YORK,  5th,  6th  month,  1837, 
143  Nassau  Street. 

HON.  H.  CLAY,  —  I  make  no  apology  for  ad 
dressing  thee  on  the  subject  of  human  rights. 
A  Republican, —  a  steady  and  consistent  friend 
of  human  liberty,  thou  canst  not  be  indifferent 
to  the  condition  of  more  than  two  millions  of  our 
fellow  countrymen,  deprived  of  all  the  rights, 

1  Copy  in  the  possession  of  the  Misses  Johnson  and  Mrs. 
Woodman. 


154       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

and  shut  out  from  all  the  glorious  privileges  and 
immunities  of  American  citizens.  Thou  hast 
indeed  spoken  freely  on  this  subject  —  and  in  a 
manner  worthy  of  the  advocate  of  universal  lib 
erty.  According  to  thy  own  emphatic  declara 
tion,  "  SLAVERY  is  ALL  WRONG." 

Thou  hast,  I  doubt  not,  heard  and  read  much 
against  the  abolitionists  of  the  North  and  West. 
I  trust,  however,  that  thy  discriminating  mind 
has  been  able  to  perceive  that  much  that  has 
been  urged  against  us  is  and  must  be  false  in 
the  nature  of  things.  But  I  would  ask  thee  to 
weigh  the  testimony  of  such  men  as  Wm.  E. 
Channing  and  Daniel  Webster  in  regard  to  the 
character  of  the  abolitionists.  We  are  not  the 
enemies  of  the  slaveholder :  and  how  would  our 
hearts  go  out  to  that  man  who,  himself  a  slave 
holder,  should  throw  off  the  shackles  of  a  corrupt 
public  opinion,  shake  from  him  the  prejudices 
of  education,  despise  the  suggestions  of  avarice, 
crucify  the  lust  of  power,  and  stand  forth  the 
fearless  and  eloquent  advocate  of  the  rights  of 
the  colored  American!  How  many  prayers 
from  the  closet  and  around  the  fireside  of  the 
free  farmers  of  New  England  would  arise  for  his 
welfare ! 

The  subject  is  fast  becoming  the  all-engrossing 
one.  Already  our  societies  have  increased  to 
1100, —  having  more  than  doubled  during  the 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         155 

past  year.  Almost  every  mail  brings  us  accounts 
of  the  formation  of  new  societies.  In  Massa 
chusetts,  the  great  mass  is  becoming  abolition- 
ized,  and  men  of  both  political  parties,  and  of 
all  religious  creeds,  unite  as  upon  common 
ground.  In  this  state  the  undercurrent  of  aboli 
tionism  is  acquiring  tremendous  strength.  This 
question,  too,  is  taken  hold  of  upon  religious 
grounds.  It  is  the  conscience  —  the  soul — the 
deep  religious  principle  of  the  North  that  is 
speaking  out  on  this  subject.  Prayerful  men 
and  women  consider  the  utterance  of  their  testi 
mony  against  Slavery  as  a  solemn  and  imperative 
duty.  And  will  a  cause,  thus  baptized  in  prayer, 
and  associated  with  the  holiest  emotions  of  the 
soul,  and  the  best  feelings  of  humanity,  fail  of 
its  great  object  ?  Believe  it  not.  I  will  do  thee 
the  justice  to  believe  that  thou  wouldst  not  wish 
it  to  fail. 

There  is  one  subject  upon  which  I  feel  a  deep 
interest.  It  is  the  subject  of  Texas,  and  its 
annexation  to  the  United  States.  God  grant 
that  my  fears  may  not  be  realized,  but  I  con 
fess  that  I  have  little  hope  of  anything  else  than 
such  an  annexation.  I  trust  that  thy  voice  will 
be  raised  against  it. 

The  Society  of  Friends  as  a  body  feel  deeply 
on  this  subject.  They  would  be  glad  to  entrust 
some  petitions  or  remonstrances  against  the 


156       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

annexation  of  Texas  to  thy  care  could  they  be 
assured  that  thou  wouldst  sustain  the  petitions. 
I  should  be  pleased  to  have  a  line  from  thee  on 
the  subject  as  early  as  may  suit  thy  convenience. 
With  respect  and  esteem, 
Thy  friend, 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

Clay  replied  with  equal  skill : l  — 

(Private) 

ASHLAND,  22d  July,  1837. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  duly  received  your  favor  of 
the  5th  inst.  and  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for 
writing  very  briefly  on  the  several  subjects  of 
which  it  treats.  I  certainly  do,  as  you  suppose, 
feel  great  concern  in  regard  to  the  condition  of 
the  African  portion  of  our  population.  I  have 
so  often  expressed  my  sentiments,  in  respect  to 
slavery,  that  it  is  not  necessary  now  to  repeat 
them.  Without  looking  to  the  religious  aspect 
of  the  question,  all  my  reflections  have  satisfied 
me  that  it  is  unjust,  and  injurious  both  to  the 
master  and  slave. 

But  whilst  I  say  this,  candor  obliges  me  to 
express  my  deep  regret  that  the  abolitionists 
of  the  North  have  deemed  it  their  duty  to  agi 
tate  the  question  of  immediate  emancipation.  I 

1  Manuscript  in  the  possession  of  the  Misses  Johnson  and 
Mrs.  Woodman. 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         157 

will  not  impute  to  them  bad  motives,  nor  stop 
to  entertain  and  discuss  the  question.  But  I 
must  say  that  I  think  that  their  proceedings  are 
highly  injurious  to  the  slave  himself,  to  the 
master,  and  to  the  harmony  of  the  Union.  I 
believe  that,  instead  of  accelerating,  they  will 
retard  abolition,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  will 
check  the  measures  of  benevolence  and  amelio 
ration.  This,  no  doubt,  was  not  intended,  but  it 
is  nevertheless  absolutely  certain. 

I  am  not  aware  that  the  annexation  of  Texas 
to  the  U.  S.  will  ever  become  a  question  for 
general  consideration.  I  learn  that  the  desire 
of  becoming  a  part  of  the  U.  S.  is  weakening 
in  Texas.  Should  the  question  arise,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  weigh,  with  great  deliberation,  all 
the  probable  consequences  both  of  admission  and 
exclusion.  Slavery  is  only  one  of  many  consid 
erations  that  will  come  up.  I  do  not  think  that 
the  question  should  be  decided  exclusively  by 
that.  Should  there  be  a  decided  opposition  by 
a  large  portion  of  the  U.  S.  to  the  admission 
of  Texas  into  our  national  family,  that  fact 
ought  to  have  great,  if  not  conclusive,  influence 
in  the  determination  of  the  question. 

I  think  those  gentlemen  of  the  South  have 
been  unwise  who  have  expressed  a  wish  for  the 
incorporation  of  Texas  in  order  to  strengthen 
the  slave  interest;  and  I  should  think  it  also 


158       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

unwise  in  gentlemen  of  the  North  to  avow  the 
opposite  ground  as  motive  for  action. 

As  for  myself,  I  shall  reserve  my  judgment 
for  all  the  lights  of  which  I  can  avail  myself 
when  the  proposition  of  annexation  shall  be 
made,  if  it  ever  be  made.  It  may  become  a 
matter  of  serious  enquiry  whether  the  spread  of 
slavery  and  the  introduction  of  slaves  from  for 
eign  countries  may  not  be  more  successfully 
prevented  by  taking  Texas  in  the  Union  than 
by  keeping  her  out  of  it. 

I  am  with  high  respect, 

Your  obt.  servt. 

H.  CLAY. 

As  a  further  illustration  of  "Whittier's  political 
correspondence,  I  am  able  to  present,  through 
the  kindness  of  Mr.  Charles  Francis  Adams,  the 
following  letters  to  John  Quincy  Adams,  whom 
he  revered  as  the  ideal  exponent  of  moral  reform 
through  political  means  :  - 

PHILADELPHIA,  23rd  1st  mo.,  1837. 

HON.  J.  Q.  ADAMS,  —  A  citizen  of  Massachu 
setts,  I  feel  free  to  address  thee  a  line  in  refer 
ence  to  the  great  question  of  Slavery  as  now 
agitated  in  this  country.  In  common  with  thou 
sands  of  the  sons  of  the  "  good  Bay  State,"  I  have 
felt  under  peculiar  obligations  to  thyself  as  the 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          159 

unflinching  and  uncompromising  defender  of  our 
right  of  petition,  and  as  the  inflexible  opponent 
of  the  baneful  system  of  Slavery.  In  the  name 
of  thousands  of  thy  fellow  citizens  I  thank  thee. 
I  rejoice  to  know  that  whoever  else  may  prove 
faithless  to  the  Pilgrim  Spirit  of  New  England 
Freedom  in  the  Halls  of  Congress,  the  son  of 
John  Adams  will  never  be  found  "  basely  bowing 
the  knee  to  the  dark  Spirit  of  Slavery." 

My  immediate  object  in  writing  this  note  is 
to  suggest,  with  due  deference,  whether  it  might 
not  subserve  the  Cause  of  Right  and  Freedom 
for  the  representatives  of  Massachusetts  to  enter 
their  solemn  and  united  protest  against  the  vir 
tual  annihilation  of  the  right  of  petition  involved 
in  the  infamous  resolution  which  has  passed  the 
House  in  reference  to  the  petitions  and  remon 
strances  of  the,  people  upon  the  subject  of  Slav 
ery.  It  seems  to  me  that  such  a  course  is  due 
to  yourselves  as  well  as  to  your  constituents. 
Rely  upon  it  you  will  in  so  doing  meet  response 
of  approbation  from  any  true  son  of  Massachu 
setts.  The  common  sense  —  the  heart  —  the  in 
tellect  of  the  State  will  be  with  you.  The  Legis 
lature  of  Massachusetts  will  sustain  you,  the 
people  will  answer  "  well  done  "  ! 

I  have  no  doubt  that  all  or  mostly  all  of  the 
representatives  of  the  State  would  be  ready  to 
sign  such  a  protest. 


160       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

The  occasion  seems  to  me  to  demand  it. 
Excuse  these  suggestions  from  a  stranger  and 
believe  me  cordially  and  most  sincerely 
Thy  friend 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

P.  S.  I  shall  be  in  Philadelphia  for  a  week  or 
ten  days.  A  letter  addressed  to  me  care  Benja 
min  S.  Jones,  Arch  St.,  would  reach  me. 

J.  G.  W. 

AMESBURY,  ESSEX  Co.,  12th  4th  mo.,  1837. 

HON.  JOHN  Q.  ADAMS  : 

Dear  Friend,  —  I  am  requested  to  inform 
thee  that  at  a  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Managers 
of  the  Massachusetts  Anti-Slavery  Society  held 
in  Boston  on  the  10th  inst.,  Francis  Jackson, 
Esq.,  in  the  chair,  it  was  unanimously  voted  to 
invite  thee  to  be  present  at  the  New  England 
Anti-Slavery  Convention  to  be  held  in  Boston 
on  the  last  Tuesday  of  May  next. 

We  do  not  offer  the  invitation  with  the  wish  of 
inducing  thee  to  take  any  step  inconsistent  with 
thy  previously  avowed  sentiments.  We  invite 
thee  to  be  a  spectator  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
friends  of  Liberty  assembled  from  all  parts  of 
New  England  to  consider  subjects  of  the  most 
vital  importance  to  the  whole  country. 

The  topics  which  will  be  discussed  are :  1, 
Texas ;  2,  District  of  Columbia ;  3,  Slave  trade 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          161 

between  the  States ;  4,  Right  of  persons  claimed 
as  fugitive  slaves  to  a  jury  trial ;  5,  duty  of  the 
Free  States.  If  on  any  of  these  subjects  (espe 
cially  Texas)  we  could  be  favored  with  thy  views, 
it  would  be  a  source  of  high  gratification  to  the 
members  of  the  Convention,  and  no  doubt  pro 
ductive  of  great  good  to  the  cause  of  Liberty 
and  Humanity.  A  line  for  the  expression  of  thy 
determination  in  regard  to  this  invitation  would 
be  received  with  pleasure. 

Truly  thy  friend, 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

HON.  JOHN  Q.  ADAMS. 

NEW  YORK,  3rd  1st  mo.,  1838. 

DEAR  FRIEND,  —  Allow  me  to  assure  thee  in 
behalf  of  myself,  and  the  friends  of  freedom 
in  this  city,  of  our  grateful  sense  of  thy  services 
in  support  of  the  rights  of  the  citizens  and  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States. 

The  people  are  rousing  themselves  at  this  new 
aggression  of  the  21st  ultimo.  East,  West,  and 
North  the  land  is  shaking  with  indignant  agita 
tion ;  and  before  one  month  a  flood  of  remon 
strances  will  be  rolled  upon  a  recreant  Congress. 
From  Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  and  New  Jer 
sey  and  Pennsylvania,  we  hear  of  a  simultaneous 
movement  to  petition  for  the  rescinding  of  this 
resolution.  By  the  bye,  would  it  not  be  well  for 


162       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

the  Massachusetts  delegation  to  draw  up  a  state 
ment  of  the  manner  in  which  their  freedom  of 
speech  and  the  rights  of  their  constituents  have 
been  denied  on  the  floor  of  Congress,  and  publish 
it  in  the  "  Intelligencer  "  and  some  of  the  Boston 
papers  ?  Would  not  all  of  our  delegation  sign 
such  a  paper  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  something 
of  the  kind  is  demanded. 

Our  Massachusetts  Legislature  will  unques 
tionably  speak  out  at  this  crisis,  and  once  more 
protest  against  these  repeated  violations  of  the 
Constitution. 

I  need  not  say  to  thee,  Go  on.  The  thousands 
who  now  look  to  thee  as  the  champion  of  their 
freedom  of  opinion,  of  speech  and  petition,  will 
not  be  disappointed. 

May  the  God  of  the  oppressed  strengthen  and 
preserve  thee. 

Truly  thy  friend, 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER, 

Whittier  was  of  great  service,  too,  in  duties  of 
membership  and  administration  connected  with 
his  organization.  One  of  the  original  members 
of  the  American  Anti- Slavery  Society,  he  was 
constant  in  his  attendance,  as  far  as  his  health 
permitted,  at  its  annual  meetings  and  those  of 
the  Massachusetts  Anti-Slavery  Society,  and  he 
was  for  a  while  one  of  the  vice-presidents  of  the 


THE  YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         163 

latter,  and  at  various  times  one  of  the  agents, 
the  managers,  and  the  secretaries  of  the  former. 
In  his  relations  with  the  societies  he  is  on  record 
in  their  reports  as  proposing  resolutions  which 
looked  toward  political  action,  and  he  was  a 
leading  spirit  in  the  movement  that  justly  rent 
asunder  the  organized  abolitionist  bodies  on  the 
question  of  the  establishment  of  a  definite  abo 
litionist  party. 

As  an  experienced  journalist  and  pamphleteer 
Whittier  was  even  more  effective.  On  July  23, 
1836,  he  became  again  the  editor  of  the  Haver- 
hill  "  Gazette,"  and  when  it  was  obvious  that  his 
political  attitude  was  not  in  great  favor  with  the 
subscribers,  he  associated  with  himself,  on  Sep 
tember  17,  Dr.  Jeremiah  Spofford  of  George 
town,  who  was  to  have  under  his  superintendence 
"  the  political  character  and  bearing  of  the  pa 
per,"  while  Whittier,  as  the  junior  editor,  was 
to  retain  "  the  literary  and  miscellaneous  depart 
ment."  To  the  modern  reader,  however,  it  is 
plain  that  this  sharing  of  the  responsibilities  did 
not  alter  the  abolitionist  bias  of  the  journal,  and 
we  are  not  surprised  in  finding  Whittier  retiring 
wholly  from  the  management  on  December  17. 
In  the  same  year  he  administered  through  the 
columns  of  the  "  Liberator  "  a  telling  rebuke 
to  pompous  Governor  Everett,  who  had  in  his 
inaugural  address  endeavored  to  smooth  his  own 


164       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

path  by  choking  off  discussions  on  slavery.1  In 
1837  he  edited  John  Quincy  Adams's  remark 
able  letters  to  his  constituents  with  regard  to 
the  right  of  petition  to  Congress,  and  some 
selections  from  Harriet  Martineau's  writings 
about  America,  under  the  title  "  Views  of  Slavery 
and  Emancipation,"  with  an  introduction  show 
ing  that  her  anti-slavery  sentiments  were  not  the 
result  of  prejudice :  while  endeavoring  to  repre 
sent  our  democratic  civilization  in  its  best  light, 


1  W.  S.  Kennedy  (Whittier,  American  Reformers  Series, 
100)  seems  to  have  been  the  first  to  point  out  that  Wendell 
Phillips,  in  the  famous  sentence  in  his  Faneuil  Hall  speech, 
"I  thought  those  pictured  lips  would  have  broken  into  voice, 
to  rebuke  the  recreant  American,"  was  perhaps  unconsciously 
using1  Whittier's  figure  of  two  years  previous :  — 

"  George  Washington  was  another  signer  of  the  Constitu 
tion.  I  know  that  he  was  a  slaveholder  ;  and  I  have  not  for 
gotten  the  emotions  which  swelled  my  bosom,  when  in  the 
metropolis  of  New  England,  the  Cradle  of  Liberty,  a  degener 
ate  son  of  the  Pilgrims  [Peleg  Sprague]  pointed  to  his  portrait, 
which  adorns  the  wall,  with  the  thrice  repeated  exclamation, 
— '  That  Slaveholder! '  I  saw  the  only  blot  on  the  otherwise 
bright  and  spotless  character  of  the  Father  of  his  Country  held 
to  open  view  —  exposed  by  remorseless  hands  to  sanction  a 
system  of  oppression  and  blood.  It  seemed  to  me  like  sacri 
lege.  I  looked  upon  those  venerable  and  awful  features,  while 
the  echoes,  once  wakened  in  that  old  Hall  by  the  voice  of  an 
cient  Liberty,  warm  from  the  lips  of  Adams  and  Hancock  and 
the  fiery  heart  of  James  Otis,  gave  back  from  wall  and  gallery 
the  exulting  cry  of  '  Slaveholder,'  half  expecting  to  see  the  still 
canvas  darken  with  a  frown,  and  the  pictured  lips  part  asun 
der  with  the  words  of  rebuke  and  sorrow." 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          165 

"a  strict  regard  to  truth  and  justice  required 
her  to  speak  of  the  hideous  anomaly  in  our 
midst."  In  1838,  while  in  New  York  as  a  sec 
retary  of  the  American  Anti-Slavery  Society,  he 
drew  up,  on  the  basis  of  a  fugitive  slave's  story, 
"  The  Narrative  of  James  Williams,"  a  star 
tling  account  of  slaveholders'  cruelties,  which 
the  society  was  compelled  later  to  withdraw  from 
circulation  on  account  of  the  relative  untrust- 
worthiness  of  the  witness.  After  the  failure  of 
a  plan  to  establish  an  anti-slavery  journal  in 
Portland,  Me.,  he  took  control,  on  March  15, 
1838,  of  the  "Pennsylvania  Freeman,"  the  offi 
cial  organ  of  the  Pennsylvania  Anti-Slavery 
Society. 

His  editorial  work  on  the  "  Freeman  "  was  less 
amateurish  than  in  earlier  years.  There  was  a 
bit  of  cant  about  it,  a  little  of  the  conventional 
ity  of  humanitarianism ;  but  it  was  resolute, 
straightforward  writing,  tolerant  to  his  oppo 
nents  both  outside  and  inside  the  organization, 
and  alive  to  opportunities  for  a  telling  stroke. 
He  had  less  than  usual  to  say  about  literature, 
but  in  commenting  on  a  remark  said  to  have 
been  made  by  Pickens  on  the  floor  of  Congress 
to  the  effect  that  the  literature  of  the  world  is 
against  the  South,  he  quotes  with  effect  Camp 
bell's  recent  lines  "To  the  United  States  of 
America  on  their  striped  and  starred  banner :  " — 


166       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

"  The  white  man's  liberty  in  types 

Stands  blazon'd  by  your  stars  — 
But  what 's  the  meaning-  of  the  stripes  ? 
They  mean  your  Negroes'  scars !  " 

And  it  is  interesting  to  find  him  for  once  turning 
aside  from  his  more  important  task  to  call  at 
tention  to  Longfellow's  anonymous  "  Psalm  of 
Life,"  which  had  just  appeared  in  the  "  Knicker 
bocker :" — 

"It  is  very  seldom  that  we  find  an  article  of 
poetry  so  full  of  excellent  philosophy  and  com 
mon  sense  as  the  following.  We  know  not  who 
the  author  may  be,  but  he  or  she  is  no  common 
man  or  woman.  These  nine  simple  verses  are 
worth  more  than  all  the  dreams  of  Shelley,  and 
Keats,  and  Wordsworth.  They  are  alive  and 
vigorous  with  the  spirit  of  the  day  in  which  we 
live — the  moral  steam  enginery  of  an  age  of 
action." 

Whittier's  political  poems  appeared  in  the 
Haverhill  "  Gazette,"  the  "  Liberator,"  the  Bos 
ton  "Courier,"  the  "Pennsylvania  Freeman," 
in  collections  of  anti-slavery  verse  like  "  The 
North  Star,"  "  The  Liberty  Bell,"  and  "  Songs 
of  the  Free,"  and,  indeed,  wherever  convenience 
and  the  occasion  dictated.  The  place  of  publi 
cation  mattered  little,  for  they  were  copied  far 
and  wide,  quoted  by  abolitionist  orators,  read 
aloud  in  abolitionist  families,  and  declaimed  by 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          167 

abolitionist  schoolboys,  thus  acquiring  an  impor 
tance  wholly  out  of  proportion  to  their  number 
or  their  artistic  merit.  As  Garrison  said  in  the 
"  Liberator,"  with  reference  to  the  "  Stanzas  " 
beginning  "  Our  fellow-countrymen  in  chains," 
"  Our  gifted  brother  Whittier  has  again  seized 
the  great  trumpet  of  Liberty,  and  blown  a  blast 
that  shall  ring  from  Maine  to  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains." 

In  1837,  while  Whittier  was  in  New  York, 
the  publisher  of  the  "  Liberator,"  Isaac  Knapp, 
collected  and  published  these  verses,  under  the 
title  of  "  Poems  Written  during  the  Progress  of 
the  Abolition  Question  in  the  United  States," 
without,  it  would  appear,  notifying  Whittier  of 
his  intention.  A  little  later  he  himself  chose  for 
Joseph  Healy,  the  financial  agent  of  the  Penn 
sylvania  Anti- Slavery  Society,  the  material  for 
his  "Poems,"  which  appeared  in  1838.  Both 
volumes  were  tracts  for  the  abolitionist  propa 
ganda.  The  first  was  illustrated  by  the  familiar 
woodcuts  that  bore  the  legends  "Am  I  not  a 
man  and  a  brother  ?  "  and  "  Am  I  not  a  woman 
and  a  sister  ?  "  The  second  bore  the  motto  from 
Coleridge,  "  '  There  is  a  time  to  keep  silence,' 
saith  Solomon  ;  but  when  I  proceeded  to  the  first 
verse  of  the  fourth  chapter  of  the  Ecclesiastes, 
'and  considered  all  the  oppressions  that  are 
done  under  the  sun,  and  beheld  the  tears  of  such 


168       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

as  were  oppressed,  and  they  had  no  comforter; 
and  on  the  side  of  the  oppressors  there  was 
power ; '  I  concluded  this  was  not  the  time  to 
keep  silence ;  for  Truth  should  be  spoken  at  all 
times,  but  more  especially  at  those  times  when 
to  speak  Truth  is  dangerous."  With  the  excep 
tion  of  the  "  Vaudois  Teacher  "  and  "  Bind  up 
thy  tresses,  thou  beautiful  one,"  towards  the  end 
of  the  book,  the  1837  volume  contained  nothing 
but  anti-slavery  matter,  and  the  1838  edition 
printed  the  anti-slavery  poems  first,  adding  some 
of  his  religious  and  reform  pieces,  and  a  very 
few  historical  verses. 

These  early  political  verses,  most  of  which  are 
retained  in  the  later  editions,  were  only  of  tran 
sient  importance.  It  is  with  difficulty  that  we 
can  now  understand  the  circumstances  that  occa 
sioned  them ;  we  must  know  contemporary  his 
tory  to  appreciate  their  allusions.  But  it  is  not 
difficult  to  realize  that  they  were  at  that  time 
effective.  They  are  not  blundering  verses.  The 
lines  run  smoothly,  the  rhythms  ring.  They 
expostulate,  they  plead,  they  satirize;  and  in 
every  case  they  reach  their  mark.  Only  a  deeply 
reflective  mind  could  thus  search  out  the  real 
issues  ;  only  the  trained  hand  could  thus  regularly 
hit  the  target.  Two  or  three,  such  as  "The 
Yankee  Girl"  and  "The  Slave-Ships,"  are  in 
narrative  form,  but  the  mass  of  his  work  was 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         169 

purely  expository,  —  editorials  in  verse.  He 
laments  his  dead  brothers-at-arms,  he  writes 
hymns  for  anniversaries,  he  comments  on  current 
events,  taking  every  good  opportunity  for  strik 
ing  a  strong  blow  for  the  cause,  by  amplifying  a 
fine  passage  in  an  anti-slavery  speech  or  seizing 
hold  of  some  rash  act  or  utterance  on  the  other 
side.  In  "  The  Hunters  of  Men,"  he  reveals,  as 
in  a  cartoon,  the  whole  force  of  the  pious  and 
respected  Colonization  Society  riding  at  the  heels 
of  the  free  blacks  like  hunters  after  a  fox. 

"  Gay  luck  to  our  hunters !  how  nobly  they  ride 
In  the  glow  of  their  zeal,  and  the  strength  of  their  pride  ! 
The  priest  with  his  cassock  flung  back  on  the  wind, 
Just  screening  the  politic  statesman  behind ; 
The  saint  and  the  sinner,  with  cursing  and  prayer, 
The  drunk  and  the  sober,  ride  merrily  there. 
And  woman,  kind  woman,  wife,  widow,  and  maid, 
For  the  good  of  the  hunted,  is  lending  her  aid : 
Her  foot 's  in  the  stirrup,  her  hand  on  the  rein, 
How  blithely  she  rides  to  the  hunting  of  men !  " 

In  "  Expostulation "  he  drives  home  the  unan 
swerable  inconsistency  of  political  equality  and 
domestic  slavery :  — 

"  Shall  every  flap  of  England's  flag 

Proclaim  that  all  around  are  free, 
From  farthest  Ind  to  each  blue  crag 

That  beetles  o'er  the  Western  Sea  ? 
And  shall  we  scoff  at  Europe's  kings, 

When  Freedom's  fire  is  dim  with  us, 
And  round  our  country's  altar  clings 

The  damning  shade  of  Slavery's  curse  ?  " 


170       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

And  in  "  The  New  Year  "  he  lashes  the  subserv 
iency  of  Northern  politicians :  — 

"  Yet,  shame  upon  them !  there  they  sit, 
Men  of  the  North,  subdued  and  still ; 
Meek,  pliant  poltroons,  only  fit 
To  work  a  master's  will. 

"  Sold,  —  bargained  off  for  Southern  votes,  — 

A  passive  herd  of  Northern  mules, 
Just  braying  through  their  purchased  throats 
Whate'er  their  owner  rules." 

Meanwhile  he  points,  prophetically  and  unerr 
ingly  to  the  growing  demand  of  the  people  of 
the  North  and  West  for  immediate  emancipa 
tion  :  — 

"  East,  West,  and  North,  the  shout  is  heard, 

Of  freemen  rising  for  the  right : 
Each  valley  hath  its  rallying  word,  — 
Each  hill  its  signal  light. 

"  O'er  Massachusetts'  rocks  of  gray, 

The  strengthening  light  of  freedom  shines, 
Rhode  Island's  Narragansett  Bay, 
And  Vermont's  snow-hung  pines ! 

"  From  Hudson's  frowning  palisades 

To  Allegheny's  laurelled  crest, 
O'er  lakes  and  prairies,  streams  and  glades, 
It  shines  upon  the  West." 

It  was  thus  plain  that  Whittier's  humanitarian 
aspirations  overshadowed  all  his  other  interests 
in  verse.  He  wrote  little  during  the  period 
under  consideration  which  did  not  directly  con- 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST          171 

cern  reform.  One  long  poem,  indeed,  "  Mogg 
Megone,"  which  he  began  in  1830,  was  published 
in  book  form  in  1836,  and  marks  the  culmina 
tion  of  his  youthful  enthusiasm  in  New  England 
legend,  and  of  his  effort  to  retell  the  old  tales  of 
the  early  settlers  in  the  fashion  of  Scott.  Whit- 
tier  himself  grew  to  dislike  "  Mogg  Megone," 
and  finally  banished  it  from  the  body  of  his 
collected  poems,  reprinting  it  in  an  appendix, 
with  the  derogatory  comment  that  it  then  sug 
gested  to  him  "  a  big  Indian  in  his  war-paint, 
strutting  about  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  plaid."  But 
the  poem,  in  spite  of  its  obvious  defects,  does 
not  deserve  the  obloquy  it  has  received.  I  think 
I  may  perhaps  speak  for  many  country  boys  in 
Whittier's  own  district  forty  years  later  when  I 
say  that  nothing  that  had  been  written  of  Colonial 
times  seemed  to  us  so  vivid,  not  even  Cooper's 
novels.  For  it  dealt  with  the  New  England 
epos,  rather  than  with  that  of  the  Middle  or 
Western  States ;  it  had  something  of  the  effect 
of  Parkman  in  the  emphasis  it  threw  on  the  war 
fare  of  France  and  England,  Catholicism  and 
Protestantism ;  and  the  figures  of  the  base  fron 
tiersman,  the  great  Sachem,  the  daring  girl  who 
struck  so  boldly  for  revenge  when  she  saw  her 
lover's  scalp,  the  Jesuit  plotting  for  the  supre 
macy  of  France  in  America,  whose  great  plans 
she  thus  ruined  —  slight  as  they  are,  are  figures 


172       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

deeply  typical  of  the  great  forces  then  at  strife. 
Whittier  failed  when  Scott  succeeded,  we  must 
admit,  though  it  is  hard  to  see  why.  A  feud  of 
an  overbearing  Scottish  prince  with  the  maraud 
ing  Trossack  clans  may  well  seem  less  noble  to 
our  minds  than  the  romance  of  our  own  pioneers, 
on  whose  success  hung  the  welfare  of  our  nation  ; 
the  little  Scottish  lakes  are  no  more  beautiful 
than  our  own.  But  Scott  made  his  forays  im 
mortal,  and  ours  are  not  yet  fitly  chronicled. 
Perhaps  when  the  past  takes  its  just  place  in 
perspective,  we  may  have  novels  and  roman 
tic  poems  that  make  the  life  of  the  pioneers 
shine  out  again,  and  perhaps,  when  the  proper 
medium  has  been  found,  we  shall  see  that  Whit- 
tier  was  in  his  youth  unwittingly  near  the  heart 
of  the  secret.  Certainly  we  may  now  acknow 
ledge  that  in  the  poem  he  came  to  despise  he 
had  stumbled  for  a  moment  on  the  tune  of  the 
rapid  and  musical  narrative  and  descriptive  verse 
which  in  later  years  he  handled  so  skilfully :  — 

"  Ah,  Mogg  Megone  ! —  what  dreams  are  thine, 
But  those  which  love's  own  fancies  dress,  — 
The  sum  of  Indian  happiness  !  — 
A  wig-warn,  where  the  warm  sunshine 
Looks  in  among-  the  groves  of  pine,  — 
A  stream,  where,  round  thy  light  canoe, 
The  trout  and  salmon  dart  in  view, 
And  the  fair  girl,  before  thee  now, 
Spreading  thy  mat  with  hand  of  snow, 
Or  plying,  in  the  dews  of  morn, 


THE   YOUNG  ABOLITIONIST         173 

Her  hoe  amidst  thy  patch  of  com, 
Or  offering  up,  at  eve,  to  thee 
Thy  birchen  dish  of  hominy  !  " 

With  so  slight  a  poetical  product  closed  the 
critical  period  in  Whittier's  life.  After  a  bitter 
struggle  he  had  submitted  his  career  to  the 
chances  of  an  extravagant  and  ill-informed 
humanitarian  movement,  and  that  unselfish  act 
made  him  for  the  best  years  of  his  life  a  man  of 
action  rather  than  a  man  of  letters  —  a  reformer, 
a  missionary,  a  politician,  rather  than  a  poet. 
At  thirty-five,  he  found  himself,  like  Dante,  in 
an  obscure  wood,  searching  for  the  true  road, 
tempted  and  threatened  by  the  great  forces  of 
his  time.  Milton,  Burke,  the  servants  of  great 
causes,  his  own  Quaker  forerunners,  the  saints 
and  martyrs  and  crusaders  of  old  —  these  and 
not  Virgil  were  the  guides  that  showed  him  the 
path  of  duty.  Once  found,  he  followed  it  with 
out  turning  back,  and  it  was  not  until  he  was 
becoming  an  old  man  that  the  roads  joined  again 
and  he  could  devote  himself  entirely  to  letters. 
Meantime  the  dross  in  his  nature  was  to  be  puri 
fied  by  poverty,  by  abstinence,  by  isolation,  by 
devotion. 


CHAPTER  V 

REFORMER  AND  MAN   OF  LETTERS 
1840-1860 

DURING  the  twenty  long  and  painful  years 
which  passed  between  the  first  stirrings  of  the 
third  party  and  the  full  organization  of  the 
Black  Republicans,  the  twenty  years  which 
the  nation  needed  to  swing  slowly  into  line  with 
the  principles  of  the  little  band  of  political  aboli 
tionists,  Whittier  was  almost  continually  a  pris 
oner  at  Amesbury,  fast  bound  by  ill  health  and 
po.verty.  In  the  summer  of  1840  he  made  sundry 
visits  and  attended  the  yearly  meeting  of  the 
Society  of  Friends  at  Newport.  In  the  autumn 
he  twice  tried  to  start  on  a  little  journey  to 
Halifax,  but  was  not  sufficiently  strong.  In 
1841  he  for  a  few  weeks  accompanied  the  Eng 
lish  philanthropist,  Joseph  Sturge,  a  wealthy 
fellow  Quaker  and  abolitionist,  as  his  guide  on 
part  of  a  tour  through  the  important  cities  of 
the  East,  in  the  interests  of  the  cause,  but  was 
more  than  once  obliged  through  increasing  in 
disposition  to  return  for  recuperation.  In  1844- 
45  he  lived  for  about  six  months  in  Lowell, 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    175 

while  editing  the  "  Middlesex  Standard."  In 
1845  he  thought  again  of  going  to  the  West,  but 
found  it  impossible  to  carry  out  his  plan.  In 
1845  and  1848  he  visited  Washington  in  behalf 
of  the  abolitionists.  But  these  somewhat  stern 
diversions,  with  his  little  trips  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  and  to  Boston,  were  almost  the  only 
breaks  in  continuous  residence.  His  health  was 
always  uncertain,  and  not  unfrequently  he  was 
severely  ill.  In  1847  he  wrote :  "  I  have  of  late 
been  able  to  write  but  little,  and  that  mostly  for 
the  papers,  and  I  have  scarcely  answered  a  letter 
for  a  month  past.  I  dread  to  touch  a  pen.  When 
ever  I  do,  it  increases  the  dull  wearing  pain  in 
my  head,  which  I  am  scarcely  ever  free  from." l 
And  again  in  1851 :  "  I  am  slowly  recovering 
from  the  severest  illness  I  have  known  for  years, 
the  issue  of  which,  at  one  time,  was  to  me  ex 
ceedingly  doubtful.  Indeed,  I  scarcely  know 
now  how  to  report  myself,  but  I  am  better,  and 
full  of  gratitude  to  God  that  I  am  permitted 
once  more  to  go  abroad  and  enjoy  this  beautiful 
springtime.  The  weather  now  is  delightfully 
warm  and  bright,  and  the  soft  green  of  the 
meadows  is  climbing  our  hills.  It  is  luxury  to 
live.  One  feels  at  such  times  terribly  rooted  to 

this  world  :  old  Mother  Earth  seems  sufficient 
2 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  319.          2  Ibid.  I  355. 


176       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

To  this  chronic  weakness  of  health,  which 
modern  medicine  with  its  greater  insistence  on 
hygiene  could  probably  have  greatly  obviated, 
was  added  the  burden  of  straitened  means.  The 
farm  had  been  sold  and  the  pleasant  little  house 
at  Amesbury  had  been  bought.  There  was 
therefore  a  habitation  for  his  mother,  his  sister, 
and  himself,  but  whence  could  come  the  funds 
for  their  simple  living  ?  Cut  off  from  regular 
editorial  work,  from  acting  as  a  paid  secretary 
of  an  anti-slavery  society,  and  from  the  possible 
resource  of  lecturing,  he  was  dependent  entirely 
upon  his  pen.  But  occasional  poems  and  tales 
and  essays  brought  little  under  any  circum 
stances  ;  the  magazines  shunned,  as  a  rule,  the 
contributions  of  an  abolitionist ;  his  royalties 
were  small ;  his  heart,  too,  was  almost  wholly 
wrapped  up  in  devotion  to  an  apparently  lost 
cause,  and  was  in  no  mood  for  pure  letters. 
Nevertheless  he  struggled  on  as  best  he  could, 
sustained  by  the  double  frugality  of  a  Quaker 
and  a  New  Englander.  In  1847  he  accepted 
with  pleasure  a  post  as  corresponding  editor 
of  Dr.  Bailey's  "  National  Era,"  published  in 
Washington  as  the  mouthpiece  of  the  "  new 
organization  "  or  political  abolitionists,  properly 
called  the  American  and  Foreign  Anti-Slavery 
Society,  and  the  slender  but  regular  salary  was 
his  mainstay  throughout  the  remainder  of  this 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    177 

period.  Even  with  this  assistance  his  financial 
situation  was  a  critical  one,  and  about  1857  he 
escaped  disaster  only  through  the  kind  offices 
of  a  philanthropic  abolitionist. 

To  the  limitations  of  illness  and  poverty  were 
added  those  of  loneliness  and  disappointed  am 
bition.  With  a  mind  that  adapted  itself  with 
astonishing  flexibility  to  new  conditions,  and 
was  thus  just  at  the  beginning  of  its  growth,  he 
was  confined  to  the  routine  of  a  country  village. 
Fond  of  women  and  desirous  of  marriage,  he 
was  withheld  not  only  by  ill  health  and  straitened 
means,  but  by  respect  for  his  mother's  feelings, 
for  a  devout  Quakeress  could  not  have  lived 
under  the  same  roof  with  a  daughter-in-law  that 
did  not  share  her  creed.  It  was  the  wreck  of 
all  his  purposes.  He  could  no  longer  dream 
of  success  in  journalism  or  in  politics :  he  was 
pledged  to  an  unpopular  cause.  Worse  yet,  he 
was  pledged  to  the  side  of  that  cause  where 
duty  was  less  clear.  Garrison's  path  was  plain. 
His  voice  was  the  first  to  be  raised  for  immedi 
ate,  unconditional  emancipation,  to  be  secured 
through  the  moral  regeneration  of  the  American 
people.  He  was  the  founder  of  a  religion  whose 
creed  was  freedom  to  the  slave.  How  the  prob 
lem  could  be  worked  out  practically  was  no  con 
cern  of  his,  nor  could  his  attention  be  diverted 
from  his  essential  tenet.  Was  the  Bible  against 


178       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITT1ER 

it,  then  the  Bible  was  wrong;  did  the  church 
oppose,  then  the  church  must  be  reformed ;  did 
the  Constitution  forbid,  then  the  Constitution 
must  be  destroyed  ;  was  union  impossible  under 
such  conditions,  then  death  to  the  Union.  Never 
was  extremist  more  logically  severe.  He  was  a 
man  of  one  great  moral  idea,  which,  eventually 
shared  by  millions,  brought  about  tremendous 
changes  by  awful  means.  Whittier,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  more  concerned  with  practical  results. 
His  first  anti-slavery  writing  had  dealt  with  the 
expediency  of  justice,  and  he  continually  served 
his  cause  by  indicating  the  manner  in  which 
public  opinion  could  be  influenced  and  the  slow 
legislative  steps  that  must  be  taken  to  bring 
about  the  great  event.  But  to  attempt  to  lead 
a  nation  step  by  step  toward  such  a  tremendous 
reform  was  to  enter  on  an  unknown  path  in  an 
unexplored  wilderness.  Mistake  had  to  follow 
mistake ;  success  was  always  doubtful  until  ex 
perience  brought  accurate  knowledge.  The  way 
was  one  of  compromise  :  as  a  practical  reformer 
he  had  often  to  pass  by  the  house  of  his  friends 
and  lodge  with  his  enemies,  and  the  goal  seemed 
even  more  distant  when  approached  by  such 
circuitous  means. 

Indeed,  we  may  wonder,  though  we  find  no 
indication  of  such  a  thing,  whether  in  so  practi 
cal  a  mind  as  Whittier's  there  could  arise  no 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    179 

doubts  as  to  the  truth  of  his  main  generalization, 
no  tormenting  suspicion  that  the  sudden  emanci 
pation  of  a  nation  of  slaves  might  loose  economic 
forces  impossible  to  control,  endanger  the  pros 
perity  of  the  free,  and  plunge  the  negro  into  an 
unsuspected  gulf  of  pauperism  and  the  new  but 
scarcely  less  potent  slavery  that  a  commercial 
society  imposes  upon  the  weak.  Of  the  real 
negro,  his  capacities  and  limitations,  he  had,  like 
his  fellows,  only  a  dim  idea,  based  largely  on 
theoretic  speculation,  and  he  would  have  had 
less  confidence  could  he  at  any  time  have  foreseen 
the  blackness  of  war  and  reconstruction  and  the 
perplexity  that  even  now  envelops  us. 

To  dissipate  the  clouds  of  melancholy  bred  by 
Whittier's  disadvantages  in  strength  and  sub 
stance  and  companionship,  his  wrecked  ambitions, 
and  his  exposed  position  on  the  skirmishing  line 
of  a  dangerous  expedition,  three  forces  acted 
powerfully, —  his  strenuous  New  England  train 
ing,  his  quietistic  religious  faith,  and  his  simple- 
hearted  devotion  to  his  cause. 

In  the  character  produced  by  the  peculiar 
New  England  environment  there  is  latent  —  side 
by  side  with  garrulousness,  inquisitiveness,  and 
the  innate  desire  for  community  building  —  a 
certain  reticence,  a  self-centred  tendency  that 
thrives  in  solitude,  that  wishes  only  to  be  let 
alone.  We  know  it  best  in  letters  through 


180       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Thoreau,  who  put  into  books  the  happiness  his 
independent  mind  found  in  isolation ;  but  all 
New  England  villages  have  their  parallel  cases 
of  men  and  women  whose  only  eccentricity  lies 
in  a  desire,  often  reaching  a  morbid  height,  to 
be  free  from  the  trammels  of  community  life. 
Theoretically  even  we  could  predict  such  a  ten 
dency,  and  such  extreme  examples  of  it,  from  a 
training  which  on  all  sides,  political  and  moral, 
threw  so  strong  an  emphasis  on  the  rights  and 
functions  of  the  individual  —  on  the  doctrine 
that  the  happiness  of  a  being,  like  the  weal  of 
his  soul,  was  of  his  own  making.  In  Whittier's 
mind  'lay  no  morbidness,  but  there  was  naught 
in  all  he  had  seen  and  experienced  to  make  him 
fear  his  comparative  isolation  or  to  grow  weak 
under  it. 

Eeligiously  also  he  was  accoutred  to  fight 
his  ills.  As  a  child  he  seems  to  have  submitted 
almost  passively  to  his  doctrinal  environment, 
and  in  early  manhood  to  have  been  influenced 
powerfully  only  by  the  magnificent  Quaker  tenet 
of  the  absolute  equality  of  all  persons  before 
their  Maker,  revealed  in  many  a  traditional 
observance.  In  middle  life  the  faith  of  the 
Friends  grew  stronger  within  him,  and  in  his 
years  of  disappointment  two  other  tenets  became 
clearer :  the  quietism,  the  openness  of  the  soul, 
nourished  by  frugality  and  abstinence,  that  puri- 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    181 

fies  the  mind  ;  and  that  greater  tenet  —  so  absurd 
to  the  dry  logic  of  the  eighteenth  century,  but 
less  repugnant  in  the  romantic  period  of  the 
nineteenth,  and  now  so  consonant  with  our  wider 
knowledge  of  the  mind's  extraordinary  powers 
—  that  to  the  soul  thus  open  comes  a  strange 
inspiration,  the  actual  prompting  of  the  spirit, 
the  inner  light  from  God. 

That  Whittier  chafed  under  his  spiritual  limi 
tations  and  restrictions,  and  found  this  light 
hard  to  seek,  is  apparent  from  a  letter  to  his 
friend  Richard  Mott,  written  in  November, 
1840:  — 

"  I  have  to  lament  over  protracted  seasons  of 
doubt  and  darkness,  to  shrink  back  from  the 
discovery  of  some  latent  unfaithfulness  and  in 
sincerity,  to  find  evil  at  the  bottom  of  seeming 
good,  to  abhor  myself  for  selfishness  and  pride 
and  vanity,  which  at  times  manifest  themselves, 
—  in  short,  to  find  the  law  of  sin  and  death  still 
binding  me.  My  temperament,  ardent,  impetu 
ous,  imaginative,  powerfully  acted  upon  from 
without,  keenly  susceptible  to  all  influences  from 
the  intellectual  world,  as  well  as  to  those  of 
nature,  in  her  varied  manifestations,  is,  I  fear, 
ill  adapted  to  that  quiet,  submissive,  introverted 
state  of  patient  and  passive  waiting  for  direction 
and  support  under  these  trials  and  difficulties. 
I  think  often  of  our  meeting  at  Rhode  Island, 


182       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

and  at  times  something  of  a  feeling  of  regret 
comes  over  me,  that  I  am  so  situated  as  not  to 
be  permitted  to  enjoy  the  company  and  the  care 
and  watchful  ministrations  of  those  whose  labors 
have  been  signally  owned  by  the  Great  Head  of 
the  church.  Sitting  down  in  our  small  meeting, 
and  feeling  in  myself  and  in  the  meeting  gener 
ally  a  want  of  life,  and  of  the  renewing  baptism 
of  that  Spirit  which  alone  can  soften  the  hard 
ness  and  warm  the  coldness  of  the  heart,  I  sigh 
for  the  presence  and  the  voices  of  the  eminent 
and  faithful  laborers  in  the  Lord's  vineyard.  I 
know  that  this  out-looking  of  the  spirit,  this 
craving  of  the  eye  and  of  the  ear,  is  wrong,  but 
in  the  depths  of  spiritual  weakness,  is  it  not 
natural  to  crave  the  support  even  of  an  earthly 
arm?"1 

But  that  his  mind  was  deeply  affected  by  his 
religious  beliefs  and  upheld  in  despondency  is 
plain  from  an  incident  to  which  he  refers :  — 

"  Did  I  mention  to  thee  in  my  letter  from 
Newport  a  circumstance  in  relation  to  Richard 
Mott  ?  On  Fifth  day  evening,  I  called  to  see 
J.  J.  Gurney,  agreeable  to  his  request,  in  refer 
ence  to  abolition  matters.  After  our  interview 
was  over,  Richard  Mott  followed  me  to  the  door 
and  wished  to  accompany  me  to  my  lodgings. 
During  our  walk  he  told  me  he  knew  not  how  it 
1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  262. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    183 

was  or  why,  but  that  his  mind  had  been  drawn 
into  a  deep  and  extraordinary  exercise  of  sym 
pathy  with  me ;  that  he  had  been  sensible  of  a 
deep  trial  and  exercise  in  my  own  mind ;  that 
he  had  felt  it  so  strongly  that  he  could  not  rest 
easy  without  informing  me  of  it,  although  he 
had  heard  nothing  and  seen  nothing  to  produce 
this  conviction  in  his  mind.  He  felt  desirous  to 
offer  me  the  language  of  encouragement,  to  urge 
me  to  put  aside  every  weight  that  encumbers, 
and  to  look  unto  Him  who  was  able  to  deliver 
from  every  trial.  I  confess  I  was  startled. 
Firmly  as  I  believed  the  Quaker  doctrine  on  this 
subject,  its  personal  application  to  myself  in  a 
manner  so  utterly  inexplicable  by  merely  human 
reasoning  awed  me.  I  said  little  to  him,  but 
enough  to  show  him  something  of  the  state  of 
my  mind.  Pray  for  me  that  I  may  not  suffer 
this  most  evident  day  of  the  Lord's  visitation  to 
pass  over  and  leave  me  as  before."  l 

At  all  events,  his  heart  was  full  of  unselfish 
devotion  to  God's  service  in  the  help  of  man  :  — 

"  But  alas,  I  am  laying  out  work  for  others, 
while  I  am  myself  well-nigh  powerless !  What 
Providence  has  in  store  for  me  I  know  not, 
but  my  heart  is  full  of  thankfulness  that  I  have 
been  permitted  to  do  something  for  the  cause  of 
humanity,  and  that  with  all  my  sins  and  errors 

1  Ibid.  i.  261,  from  a  letter  to  Ann  E.  Wendell. 


184       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

I  have  not  been  suffered  to  live  wholly  for  my 
self."  * 

We  now  turn  to  the  general  political  move 
ment  of  the  period,  to  the  share  of  the  abolition 
ists  in  it,  and  to  the  part  that  Whittier  him 
self  played  through  his  personal  influence  and 
through  his  writings,  both  in  prose  and  in  verse. 

Nowhere  is  American  history  more  splendidly 
interesting  than  between  1840  and  1860,  for 
there  one  may  see  the  rapid  development  of 
the  irrepressible  conflict  between  two  great  and 
antagonistic  economic  systems,  each  fully  ex 
panded.  The  breach  was  at  first  the  merest  rift, 
a  theoretical  weakness,  the  moral  element  of 
danger  which  Garrison  was  the  first  to  proclaim 
insistently  in  1831.  Jackson's  strong  handling 
of  nullification  seemed  to  presage  that  the  Union 
was  still  so  strong  that  nothing  could  shake  it, 
and  by  1840,  though  the  number  of  discontented 
theorists  in  the  North  was  growing  larger,  there 
were  only  the  faintest  signs  of  a  party  that  would 
base  itself  on  emancipation.  But  the  greediness 
of  the  South  for  further  slave  territory,  and 
the  resulting  annexation  of  Texas  and  war  with 
Mexico,  swelled  further  the  ranks  of  discontent 
in  the  North  and  strengthened  its  determination 
not  to  endure  the  extension  of  the  Southern 
system.  That  determination  had  its  natural 
1  Pickard,  Life,  I  338. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    185 

corollary  in  the  increasing  dislike  to  even  the 
incidental  applications  of  the  Southern  sys 
tem  in  Northern  territory,  —  to  the  necessary 
enforcement  of  fugitive  slave  laws  that  were 
wholly  logical  and  proper  under  a  federalistic 
conception  of  the  Union. 

The  compromise  of  1850  marked  the  turning 
point.  The  last  effort  had  been  made.  Both 
systems  had  grown  to  the  full ;  each  had  made 
every  allowance  to  the  other;  could  they  exist 
side  by  side  ?  The  old  compromisers  were  pass 
ing  away,  and  in  their  place  grew  up  a  race 
of  politicians  of  another  sort :  the  arrogant 
Davis,  insistent  upon  the  safeguards  of  the 
Southern  system  and  the  vested  rights  of  the 
minority;  the  solemn  and  misguided  Seward, 
with  his  law  "  higher  "  than  the  law ;  Douglas, 
elfish  spirit  of  the  new  Western  democracy, 
demolishing  and  unable  to  rebuild ;  and  that 
better  spirit  of  the  West,  the  slow  and  uncouth 
Lincoln,  in  whose  patient  humanity  lay  the 
nation's  hope. 

The  new  legislation  was  sudden  and  rash. 
The  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  and  the 
promulgation  of  the  doctrine  of  popular  sover 
eignty  threw  the  whole  country  into  turmoil  by 
setting  one  man's  hand  against  another  in 
Kansas.  The  Dred  Scott  decision  appalled  the 
North  and  delighted  the  South  by  affirming  that 


186       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

a  freed  slave  could  not  become  a  citizen.  Pop 
ular  feeling  grew  stronger  in  both  sections.  The 
South,  exasperated  at  the  thought  of  being  re 
stricted  in  territory  and  becoming  a  minority, 
refused  to  modify  her  system  in  such  a  way  that 
the  majority  could  properly  protect  it,  but 
pushed  forward  her  rights  at  every  turn.  The 
North,  feeling  herself  in  the  majority,  was  im 
patient  of  just  demands.  Strife  in  Kansas,  the 
burning  of  Lawrence,  the  dastardly  murders  of 
John  Brown,  the  outrageous  personalities  of 
Sumner's  speech  and  the  more  outrageous  as 
sault  upon  him,  the  inevitable  friction  in  the 
enforcement  of  the  fugitive  slave  laws,  inflamed 
the  minds  of  all  citizens.  The  Democratic  party, 
purged  of  a  few  Free-Soilers,  became  distinctly 
pro-slavery.  The  Whig  party,  never  securely 
based,  crumbled  away.  A  new  party  arose,  dis 
tinctly  anti-slavery  in  character,  taking  right 
fully  an  old  name,  though  on  another  issue. 
Growing  with  great  rapidity,  it  polled  a  large 
vote  in  1856  for  a  bad  candidate,  and  by  1860 
it  was  completely  organized  and  clearly  success 
ful.  The  majority  was  now  in  power,  and  the 
Republican  platform,  though  conservative  in  the 
extreme,  meant  that  the  Northern  economic 
system  of  free  labor  should  be  dominant. 

The  new  party  was  preeminently  one  of  intel 
ligent  men,  who  had  arrived  at  their  conclusions 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    187 

through  thought,  reading,  and  discussion.  The 
presidential  campaigns  of  1856  and  1860  were 
educational  campaigns,  and  so  were  many  local 
and  minor  campaigns  that  preceded  them.  And 
in  this  information  and  education  of  the  public 
the  abolitionists  had  certainly  taken  the  lead. 
The  anti-slavery  party  was  not  solely  the  result 
of  their  ministrations.  The  best  arguments  are 
facts.  It  was  the  fact  of  an  antiquated  economic 
system  entrenched  in  the  South,  and  carrying 
numerous  national  evils  in  its  train,  that  con 
vinced  the  minds  of  men  that  this  system  must 
be  destroyed  or  modified,  or  at  least  confined  to 
a  specially  defined  area,  where  its  evils  could  be 
minimized.  But  in  the  propaganda  of  the  indu 
bitable  fact,  the  abolitionists,  in  spite  of  their 
extreme  position,  their  exasperating  positiveness, 
and  at  times  their  plain  fanaticism,  carried  the 
banner. 

As  I  have  already  explained,  the  abolitionists 
were,  by  1840,  divided  into  two  distinct  parties, 
one  under  the  leadership  of  Garrison,  holding 
fast  to  the  moral  regeneration  of  the  public,  and 
the  other,  without  a  leader,  believing  in  political 
agitation  and  organization.  The  Garrisonian 
party  moved  rapidly  but  logically  to  an  extreme 
position.  If  slavery  be  the  great  sin  of  the 
land,  but  yet  countenanced  by  the  law  of  the 
country  and  enforced  within  the  limits  of  many 


188       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

states,  then  the  righteous  must  hold  that  the  law 
is  false  and  that  safety  lies  only  in  breaking  all 
bonds  of  union  with  these  states.  In  April, 
1842,  Garrison  dwelt  in  the  " Liberator"  on 
"  the  duty  of  making  the  REPEAL  OF  THE  UNION 
between  the  North  and  the  South  the  grand 
rallying-point  until  it  be  accomplished,  or  slavery 
cease  to  pollute  our  soil.  We  are  for  throwing 
all  the  means,  energies,  actions,  purposes,  and 
appliances  of  the  genuine  friends  of  liberty  and 
republicanism  into  this  one  channel,  and  for 
measuring  the  humanity,  patriotism,  and  piety 
of  every  man  by  this  one  standard.  This  ques 
tion  can  no  longer  be  avoided,  and  a  right  decision 
of  it  will  settle  the  controversy  between  freedom 
and  slavery."  l 

In  May,  he  placed  at  the  head  of  his  editorial 
column  this  declaration :  "A  repeal  of  the  union 
between  northern  liberty  and  southern  slavery 
is  essential  to  the  abolition  of  the  one  and  the 
preservation  of  the  other."  2 

On  October  30,  addressing  a  turbulent  meeting 
in  Boston  at  the  time  of  the  Latimer  case,  Wen 
dell  Phillips  said,  in  his  indignation  :  — 

"  We  presume  to  believe  the  Bible  outweighs 

the    statute-book.      When   I   look    upon   these 

crowded  thousands,  and   see  them  trample  on 

their  consciences  and  the  rights  of  their  fellow- 

1  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  iii.  52.  2  Ibid.  iii.  56. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    189 

men,  at  the  bidding  of  a  piece  of  parchment,  I 
say,  my  CUKSE  be  on  the  Constitution  of  these 
United  States !  "  l 

At  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Massachusetts 
Anti-Slavery  Society  in  January,  1843,  Garrison 
secured  the  passage  of  the  following  resolution : 

"  Resolved,  That  the  compact  which  exists 
between  the  North  and  the  South  is  '  a  covenant 
with  death  and  an  agreement  with  hell'  —  in 
volving  both  parties  in  atrocious  criminality  — 
and  should  be  immediately  annulled."  2 

Men  holding  such  opinions  would  not  vote. 
Their  motto  was  "  no  union  with  slaveholders," 
political,  religious,  or  personal.  This  disunion 
sentiment  was  soon  held  by  a  comparatively  large 
number  of  abolitionists,  and  was  officially  ac 
cepted  by  many  county  and  state  organizations 
in  the  East  and  West.  It  led  logically  to  the 
more  radical  doctrine  that  the  North  was  justi 
fied  in  breaking  violently  away  from  the  South, 
and  to  the  aid  furnished  to  John  Brown  in  the 
Harper's  Ferry  fiasco.  At  the  Disunion  Con 
vention  of  1857  it  was  "Resolved,  That  the 
sooner  the  separation  takes  place,  the  more 
peaceful  it  will  be ;  but  that  peace  or  war  is  a 
secondary  consideration,  in  view  of  our  present 
perils.  Slavery  must  be  conquered,  '  peaceably 
if  we  can,  forcibly  if  we  must.'  "  3 

1  Ibid.  iii.  66.  2  Ibid.  iii.  88.  »  Ibid.  iii.  457. 


190       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

And  at  the  Boston  meeting  in  Tremont  Temple, 
on  the  day  John  Brown  was  hanged,  Garrison 
virtually  approved  his  deed  and  his  plan  :  — 

"Whenever  there  is  a  contest  between  the 
oppressed  and  the  oppressor,  —  the  weapons 
being  equal  between  the  parties,  —  God  knows 
that  my  heart  must  be  with  the  oppressed,  and 
always  against  the  oppressor.  Therefore,  when 
ever  commenced,  I  cannot  but  wish  success  to 
all  slave  insurrections.  I  thank  God  when  men 
who  believe  in  the  right  and  duty  of  wielding 
carnal  weapons  are  so  far  advanced  that  they 
will  take  those  weapons  out  of  the  scale  of  des 
potism,  and  throw  them  into  the  scale  of  freedom. 
It  is  an  indication  of  progress,  and  a  positive 
moral  growth;  it  is  one  way  to  get  up  to  the 
sublime  platform  of  non-resistance ;  and  it  is 
God's  method  of  dealing  retribution  upon  the 
head  of  the  tyrant.  Rather  than  see  men  wear 
ing  their  chains  in  a  cowardly  and  servile  spirit, 
I  would,  as  an  advocate  of  peace,  much  rather 
see  them  breaking  the  head  of  the  tyrant  with 
their  chains.  Give  me,  as  a  non-resistant,  Bunker 
Hill,  and  Lexington,  and  Concord,  rather  than 
the  cowardice  and  servility  of  a  Southern  slave- 
plantation."  * 

With  such  disunion  sentiments  —  treasonable 
as  we  may  think  them  now  —  Whittier  was  at 

1  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  iii.  492. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    191 

times  partly  in  sympathy.  In  March,  1842,  he 
wrote  to  his  abolitionist  friend  Sewall :  "  I  fear 
we  shall  get  dragged  into  a  war  after  all, —  a 
war  in  defence  of  the  vilest  negro  traffic  existing 
anywhere  save  on  the  African  coast !  It  is  un 
endurable  !  And  if  Texas  is  to  be  added  to  us, 
as  there  are  no  doubtful  indications,  let  us  say, 
Disunion  before  Texas ! "  1  And  a  stanza  of 
his  "  Texas  "  (1844)  was  first  published  as 

"  Make  our  Union-band  a  chain, 
We  will  snap  its  links  in  twain, 
We  will  stand  erect  again !  " 

In  all  but  rare  moments,  however,  he  was 
consistently  on  the  side  of  progress  according  to 
law,  a  firm  believer  in  securing  political  results 
through  political  as  well  as  moral  agitation. 
The  enormous  popular  force  required  to  secure 
disunion  would  be  more  than  enough,  he  was 
accustomed  to  declare,  to  secure  union  with 
emancipation.  The  work  of  his  life  lay  in  the 
building  up  of  an  anti-slavery  party  such  as  he 
described  in  1841—42  in  writing  to  the  English 
humanitarian  and  philanthropist,  his  friend 
Joseph  Sturge :  — 

"  The  two  great  political  parties  in  the  United 

States,  radically  disagreeing  in  almost  all  other 

points,  are  of  one  heart  and  mind  in  opposing 

emancipation ;    not,  I   suppose,  from  any  real 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  288. 


192       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

affinity  to,  or  love  for  the  '  peculiar  institution,' 
but  for  the  purpose  of  securing  the  votes  of  the 
slaveholders,  who,  more  consistent  than  the 
Northern  abolitionists,  refuse  to  support  any 
man  for  office  who  is  not  willing  to  do  homage 
to  slavery.  The  competition  between  these  two 
parties  for  Southern  favor  is  one  of  the  most 
painful  and  disgusting  spectacles  which  presents 
itself  to  the  view  of  a  stranger  in  the  United 
States.  To  every  well-wisher  of  America  it  must 
be  a  matter  of  interest  and  satisfaction  to  know 
that  there  is  a  growing  determination  in  the 
free  States  to  meet  the  combination  of  slave 
holders  in  behalf  of  slavery  by  one  of  freemen 
in  behalf  of  liberty ;  and  thus  compel  the  party 
politicians,  on  the  ground  of  expediency,  if  not 
of  principle,  to  break  from  the  thraldom  of  the 
slave  power,  and  array  themselves  on  the  side  of 
freedom."  1 

The  same  doctrine  is  laid  down  in  his  address 
to  the  citizens  of  Amesbury  and  Salisbury,  after 
the  assault  on  Sumner :  — 

"Fearing  I  may  not  be  able  to  attend  the 
meeting  this  evening,  I  beg  leave  to  say  a  word 
to  my  fellow-citizens.  I  need  not  say  how  fully 
I  sympathize  with  the  object  of  the  meeting,  nor 
speak  of  my  grief  for  the  sufferings  and  danger 
of  a  beloved  friend,  now  nearer  and  dearer  than 
1  Joseph  Sturge,  A  Visit  to  the  United  States  in  1841,  230. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    193 

ever,  stricken  down  at  his  post  of  duty,  for  his 
manly  defence  of  freedom ;  nor  of  my  mingled 
pity,  horror,  and  indignation  in  view  of  the 
atrocities  in  Kansas.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  no 
time  for  the  indulgence  of  mere  emotions.  Nei 
ther  railing  nor  threats  befit  the  occasion.  It  is 
our  first  duty  to  inquire  why  it  is  that  the  bad 
men  in  power  have  been  emboldened  to  commit 
the  outrages  of  which  we  complain.  Why  is  it 
that  the  South  has  dared  to  make  such  experi 
ments  upon  us?  The  North  is  not  united  for 
freedom,  as  the  South  is  for  slavery.  We  are 
split  into  factions,  we  get  up  paltry  side  issues, 
and  quarrel  with  and  abuse  each  other,  and  the 
Slave  Power,  as  a  matter  of  course,  takes  advan 
tage  of  our  folly.  That  evil  power  is  only  strong 
through  our  dissensions.  It  could  do  nothing 
against  a  united  North.  The  one  indispensable 
thing  for  us  is  Union.  Can  we  not  have  it? 
Can  we  not  set  an  example  in  this  very  neigh 
borhood,  —  Whigs,  Democrats,  Free-Soilers,  and 
Americans,  joining  hands  in  defence  of  our 
common  liberties?  We  must  forget,  forgive, 
and  UNITE.  I  feel  a  solemn  impression  that  the 
present  opportunity  is  the  last  that  will  be  of 
fered  us  for  the  peaceful  and  constitutional 
remedy  of  the  evil  which  afflicts  us.  The  crisis 
in  our  destiny  has  come  :  the  hour  is  striking  of 
our  final  and  irrevocable  choice.  God  grant 


194       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

that  it  may  be  rightfully  made.  Let  us  not  be 
betrayed  into  threats.  Leave  violence  where  it 
belongs,  with  the  wrong-doer.  It  is  worse  than 
folly  to  talk  of  fighting  Slavery,  when  we  have 
not  yet  agreed  to  vote  against  it.  Our  business 
is  with  poll-boxes,  not  cartridge-boxes;  with 
ballots,  not  bullets.  The  path  of  duty  is  plain  : 
God's  providence  calls  us  to  walk  in  it.  Let  me 
close  by  repeating,  Yorget,  forgive,  and  UNITE."  l 

With  these  aims  in  view  he  labored  faithfully 
for  the  Liberty  party  and  the  Free-Soil  party, 
and  later  for  the  Republican  party,  not  pushing 
his  companions  further  or  faster  than  they  would 
go,  and  willing  to  join  with  them  in  platforms 
that  said  nothing  about  abolition,  provided  he 
was  sure  that  they  were  really  antagonistic  to 
the  dangerous  economic  system  to  which  the 
South  was  wedded.  From  talk  of  armed  inter 
ference  he  kept  aloof,  and  his  letter  to  Sumner, 
after  John  Brown's  raid,  shows  how,  unlike  Em 
erson,  Thoreau,  Higginson,  and  Garrison,  he  was 
firm  in  his  opposition  to  the  use  of  unlawful 
means,  as  well  as  shrewd  in  seeing  how  the  dis 
aster  could  best  be  turned  to  political  account :  — 

"  I  have  expressed  my  views  of  the  Harper's 
Ferry  outbreak.  I  am  anxious  that  our  Repub 
lican  members  of  Congress  should  meet  the 
matter  fairly,  and  unequivocally  condemn  all 
1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  382. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    195 

filibustering,  whether  for  freedom  or  slavery. 
I  like  Trumbull's  motion  —  Harper's  Ferry  is 
the  natural  result  of  the  slaveholders'  forays 
into  Kansas,  and  both  should  be  considered 
together.  The  distinction  should  be  made  clear 
between  the  natural  sympathy  with  the  man  and 
approval  of  his  mad,  and,  as  I  think,  most  dan 
gerous  and  unjustifiable  act.  The  North  is  sound 
on  this  point  —  there  are  few  who  approve  of  the 
raid  over  the  border."  1 

The  foregoing  summary  of  the  political  move 
ment  of  the  period  and  of  the  progress  of  aboli 
tionism  is  necessary  for  a  clear  understanding  of 
Whittier's  acts  and  opinions ;  for  we  must  not 
forget  that  he  was  still  a  reformer  and  not  yet  a 
man  of  letters.  We  may  now  pass  to  his  own 
share  in  the  propaganda. 

We  have  already  called  attention  to  the  pro 
found  differences  of  opinion  among  the  aboli 
tionists  as  to  the  methods  and  means  to  be 
employed  in  reaching  their  end.  The  first  crux 
was  the  part  which  women  should  play  in  the 
movement,  a  point  involved  in  the  famous  Cler 
ical  Appeal  of  1837.  Though  Whittier  censured 
the  Appeal,  and  though  he  believed  himself  in 
the  participation  of  women,  he  thought  that 
prudence  demanded  that  the  abolitionists  refrain 
from  awakening  against  themselves  any  strong 

1  Pickard,  Life,  ii.  425. 


196       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

popular  prejudice.  His  letter  of  August  14, 
1837,  to  the  Misses  Grimke,  who  had  not  only 
spoken  with  great  effect  in  public,  but  were  being 
urged  to  publish  a  set  of  letters  on  the  subject 
of  women's  rights,  shows  precisely  his  point  of 
view :  — 

"  I  am  anxious,  too,  to  hold  a  long  conversa 
tion  with  you  on  the  subject  of  war,  human 
government,  and  church  and  family  government. 
The  more  I  reflect  on  this  subject,  the  more 
difficulty  I  find,  and  the  more  decidedly  I  am 
of  opinion  that  we  ought  to  hold  all  these  mat 
ters  far  aloof  from  the  cause  of  abolition.  Our 
good  friend  H.  C.  Wright,  with  the  best  inten 
tions  in  the  world,  is  doing  great  injury  by  a 
different  course.  He  is  making  the  anti-slavery 
party  responsible  in  great  degree  for  his,  to  say 
the  least,  startling  opinions.  I  do  not  censure 
him  for  them,  although  I  cannot  subscribe  to 
them  in  all  their  length  and  breadth.  But  let 
him  keep  them  distinct  from  the  cause  of  eman 
cipation.  [He  instances  also  Garrison's  policy 
in  inserting  in  the  '  Liberator '  articles  on  Gra- 
hamism  and  no-go vernmentism  as  an  injustice 
to  the  subscribers  to  the  cause,  who  desire  to 
have  their  money  spent  for  the  spread  of  the  doc 
trine  of  immediate  emancipation.] 

"  In  regard  to  another  subject,  4  the  rights  of 
woman,'  you  are  now  doing  much  and  nobly  to 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    197 

vindicate  and  assert  the  rights  of  woman.  Your 
lectures  to  crowded  and  promiscuous  audiences 
on  a  subject  manifestly  in  many  of  its  aspects 
political,  interwoven  with  the  framework  of  the 
government,  are  practical  and  powerful  asser 
tions  of  the  right  and  duty  of  woman  to  labor 
side  by  side  with  her  brother  for  the  welfare 
and  redemption  of  the  world.  Why,  then,  let 
me  ask,  is  it  necessary  for  you  to  enter  the  lists 
as  controversial  writers  on  this  question  ?  Does 
it  not  look,  dear  sisters,  like  abandoning  in  some 
degree  the  cause  of  the  poor  and  miserable  slave, 
sighing  from  the  cotton  plantation  of  the  Mis 
sissippi,  and  whose  cries  and  groans  are  forever 
sounding  in  our  ears,  for  the  purpose  of  arguing 
and  disputing  about  some  trifling  oppression, 
political  or  social,  which  we  may  ourselves  suf 
fer?"! 

Though  Whittier's  attitude  throughout  the 
controversy  that  ensued  in  the  various  anti- 
slavery  societies  was  sensible  and  discreet,  the 
feelings  of  Garrison  and  the  Boston  abolitionists 
were  plainly  hurt,  and  they  grew  more  and  more 
to  regard  him  as  a  backslider.  And  when  the 
second  crux  appeared,  the  question  whether  the 
"  Liberator  "  was  the  official  organ  of  abolition 
ism  and  should  devote  itself  more  exclusively  to 
that  special  cause,  and  when  Whittier  was  again 
1  C.  H.  Birney,  The  Grimkt  Sisters,  203. 


198       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

found  siding  with  the  New  York  group  of  polit 
ical  workers  on  the  basis  of  expediency,  the 
breach  became  complete.  Garrison,  in  his  blunt 
way,  declared  that  Whittier's  withdrawal  from 
the  "  Pennsylvania  Freeman  "  on  account  of  ill 
health  was  no  great  loss,1  and  in  the  "  Liberator  " 
for  August  12,  1842,  he  spoke  thus  harshly  of 
his  old  friend  :  — 

"  Let  us  now  trace  this  affair  a  little  further. 
Let  us  see  what  has  become  of  those  who  once 
stood  so  prominently  before  the  American  people 
as  abolitionists  of  the  most  flaming  character, 
and  who  separated  from  the  old  organization  in 
order  to  show  their  superior  zeal  in  the  cause  of 
emancipation  by  advocating  it  as  '  men  of  one 
idea.' 

"  1.  Where  is  James  G.  Birney  ?  In  Western 
'  retiracy,'  waiting  to  be  elected  President  of  the 
United  States,  that  he  may  have  an  opportunity 
to  do  something  for  the  abolition  of  slavery.  .  .  . 

"6.  Where  is  John  G.  Whittier  ?  At  home, 
we  believe,  but  incapable  of  doing  anything  im 
portant  for  the  cause  —  except  to  write  political, 

1  "  J.  G.  Whittier  has  retired  from  the  editorial  chair  of  the 
'  Freeman.'  The  time  has  been  when  we  should  have  deeply 
regretted  to  make  this  announcement ;  but,  in  his  present 
state  of  mind,  as  it  respects  political  action  and  '  new  organ 
ization,'  and  in  view  of  the  course  he  has  thought  proper  to 
pursue  in  regard  to  the  state  of  things  in  this  his  native  com 
monwealth,  we  are  reconciled  to  his  withdrawal." 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    199 

electioneering  addresses  for  the  4  Liberty  party.' 
New  organization  has  affected  his  spirit  to  a 
withering  extent,  and  politics  will  complete  the 
ruin,  if  he  '  tarry  in  all  the  plain.'  " 

Garrison's  chief  supporters  shared  his  feel 
ings.  Mrs.  Chapman  is  reported  to  have  been 
doubtful  whether  Whittier  was  more  knave  or 
fool,  and  placed  him  on  the  "  clerical  platform 
of  hatred  to  Mr.  Garrison."  1  In  1839  or  1840 
Lydia  Maria  Child  wrote  as  follows  to  Abby 
Hopper  Gibbons :  — 

"  In  those  days,  I  little  dreamed  of  the  pain 
ful  and  mortifying  divisions  that  have  since  dis 
tracted  our  ranks.  Yet  a  glance  backward  at 
all  other  reforms  might  have  prepared  me  for  it. 
The  Apostles  soon  had  those  among  them  who 
came  '  to  spy  out  their  liberty ; '  and  why  should 
I  marvel  at  John  G.  Whittier,  when  I  recollect 
that  Barnabas  himself  was  'led  away  by  their 
dissimulations '  ? 

"  Yet  I  am  surprised  that  Whittier  does  not 
perceive  the  glaring  fact  that  the  Massachusetts 
Society  is  composed  of  men  who  walk  abroad  at 
noonday  —  who,  at  least,  have  nothing  to  con 
ceal,  and  no  necessity  for  assuming,  while  the 
New  Organization  are  resorting  to  all  manner 
of  management  and  trickery,  taking  ground  on 

1  Maria  Weston  Chapman,  Right  and  Wrong  in  Massachu 
setts  (1840),  99. 


200       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

false  issues,  shifting  ground,  when  that  on  which 
they  stand  is  too  obviously  hollow.  .  .  .  This 
pretending  one  thing  and  meaning  another  I 
have  no  patience  with."  x 

In  1840,  N.  P.  Kogers,  in  the  "Anti-Slavery 
Standard,"  thus  proclaims  him  as  an  outsider :  — 

"  Who  could  have  thought,  while  contemplat 
ing  the  lofty  effusions  of  our  anti-slavery  bard, 
that  '  new  organization '  would  ever  be  able  to 
4  tame '  or  to  '  catch  '  his  ethereal  spirit,  or  fet 
ter  his  free  limbs  in  its  narrow  harness  ?  Alas  ! 
has  it  not  caught  him,  and  reduced  him,  and 
tamed  him,  as  to  all  further  cooperation  in  the 
enterprise  of  which  he  has  ever  been  the  orna 
ment  and  pride  ?  It  may  be  to  humble  us  in 
the  dust,  that  star  after  star  in  our  enterprise  is 
thus  starting  from  its  sphere  in  the  anti-slavery 
firmament,  and  disappearing  like  an  exploded 
meteor.  Whittier  at  length  goes  out,  we  fear, 
among  the  other*  wandering  luminaries.  We 
speak  it  with  grief,  for  we  have  gloried  in  his 
light  and  beauty.  But,  henceforth,  we  look  for 
him  no  longer  blazing  in  the  anti-slavery  van, 
bearing  his  shield  gallantly  abreast  of  the  '  Lib 
erator,'  —  celebrating  the  triumphs  of  freedom 
in  deathless  verse,  and  bursting  forth  on  tyranny 
in  volcanic  explosion,  as  it  developed  itself  from 
time  to  time,  under  the  Ithuriel  touches  of  our 

1  S.  H.  Emerson,  Life  of  Abby  Hopper  Gibbons  (1883),  146. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    201 

movement.  We  look  no  longer  for  his  banner 
in  the  anti-slavery  field.  He  is  transferred  to 
another  service."  l 

And  even  as  late  as  1848  Sidney  Howard 
Gay,  the  editor  of  the  "  National  Anti-Slavery 
Standard,"  deemed  it  necessary  to  prefix  the  fol 
lowing  words  to  Lowell's  review  of  Whittier's 
poems  (Dec.  21/1848)  :  - 

"  It  is  pleasant 2  to  hear  the  completeness  and 
beauty  of  the  tribute  of  praise  rendered  by  poet 
to  poet ;  to  test  the  harmony  by  a  touch  of  the 
key-note,  which,  however  gentle,  will  strike 
harshly  upon  the  unpractised  ear:  but  older 
abolitionists  cannot  forget  what  Mr.  Lowell 
cannot  be  aware  of,  that  in  the  struggle  of 
1840,  which  was  a  struggle  for  life  or  death 
to  the  anti-slavery  cause,  Whittier,  the  Quaker, 
was  found  side  by  side  with  the  men  who 
would  have  sacrificed  that  cause,  to  crush,  ac 
cording  even  to  their  own  acknowledgment,  the 
right  of  woman  to  plead  publicly  in  behalf  of 
the  slave,  and  to  cripple  the  influence  and  power 
of  men  accused  of  no  other  crime  than  that  of 
holding  to  the  old  Quaker  doctrine  —  not  to 
go  farther  back  —  of  '  resist  not  evil ! '  We  can 

1  Quoted  in  W.  S.  Kennedy,  Whittier,  American  Reformers 
Series,  160. 

2  The  text  reads,  "  It  is  not  pleasant ;  "  but  the  not  is  obvi 
ously  contrary  to  the  sense.     The  author  may,  perhaps,  have 
written  "  Is  it  not." 


202       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

join  in  any  praises  of  the  genius  of  the  poet,  but 
not  of  the  man  who  has  not  the  manliness  and 
courage  to  honor  in  his  life  the  truths  he  loves 
to  celebrate  in  song." 

Thus  estranged,  through  no  fault  save  zeal  on 
either  side,  from  the  body  of  New  England  abo 
litionists,  Whittier  labored  long,  faithfully,  and 
with  good  results  in  the  political  field  of  his  own 
district.  With  his  little  band  of  third  party 
voters  he  held  the  balance  of  power,  and,  as  we 
have  already  recounted,  kept  Gushing  in  Con 
gress  to  represent  the  North  Essex  District  only 
because  Gushing  was  pledged  to  support,  in  cer 
tain  ways,  his  cause ;  and  on  one  occasion,  as  a 
candidate  himself,  he  prevented  for  more  than 
a  year  the  election  of  either  of  two  equally  un 
satisfactory  candidates.  Similarly  it  is  said  to 
have  been  partly  his  influence  that  sent  Kantoul 
to  represent  the  South  District. 

How  strong  his  hold  was  on  Gushing  is  appar 
ent  from  the  following  diplomatic  epistle  from 
him,  apparently  written  in  the  early  part  of  this 
period : l  - 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER,  ESQR. 

MY  DEAR  SIR:  —  Your  letter  dated  the  3rd 
inst.  and  postmarked  the  5th,  did  not  reach  me 

1  From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  the  Misses  Johnson 
and  Mrs.  Woodman. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    203 

until  this  afternoon  on  my  return  from  Salem, 
where  I  have  been  attending  the  Supreme  Court. 
I  write  a  line  of  reply,  in  great  haste,  for  the  pos 
sibility  of  some  private  conveyance  to  Haverhill. 

I  profess  that  I  think  the  situation  of  the 
District  of  Columbia,  in  respect  of  slavery  and 
the  slave  traffic,  is  wholly  indefensible  ;  that  I 
should  heartily  rejoice  in  any  change  for  the 
better ;  and  that  I  should,  of  course,  wherever  I 
may  be,  favor  any  feasible  project  for  attaining 
so  desirable  an  end.  In  so  representing  my 
opinion,  therefore,  you  have  but  done  me  justice. 
At  the  same  time,  however,  I  should  be  unwill 
ing  to  enter  Congress  pledged  to  INSTITUTE  a 
legislative  measure,  either  upon  this  or  any  sub 
ject  of  national  policy  and  legislation,  unless  it 
were  a  point  directly  and  publicly  put  in  issue 
by  my  own  constituents ;  in  which  case  I  should 
feel  bound  either  to  obey  their  instructions,  or 
to  yield  my  place  to  some  other  Representative. 

I  write  you  this  frankly,  because  between  you 
and  me  there  should  be  no  reservation  of  views 
on  my  part.  But  I  have  not  time  to  weigh  my 
language  sufficiently  for  publication  ;  and  there 
fore  commit  these  few  lines,  uncopied,  to  your 
friendly  discretion.  It  has  repeatedly  occurred 
to  me  that  a  judicious  and  temperate  correspond 
ence  between  you  and  me  upon  this  class  of 
topics  written  for  the  press,  might  be  made  inter- 


204       JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHIT  TIER 

esting  and  useful  in  so  modifying  the  views  of 
the  respective  friends  of  either  side  of  the  ques 
tion,  as  to  produce  a  reasonable  degree  of  har 
mony  upon  it  among  all  New  Englanders.  But 
this  is  a  grave  enterprise,  and  requires  consider 
ation  ;  and  is  not  a  thing  to  be  thrust  into  the 
bowels  of  a  contested  election  at  the  present 
moment. 

As  for  the  balloting  of  Monday,  while  I  hope 
for  the  best,  and  am  assured  that  good  feelings 
obtain  throughout  the  District,  yet  I  am  ready 
for  any  result,  and  cannot  be  disappointed. 

[Signature  cut  out.] 

NEWBURY  PORT,  SATURDAY  AFTERNOON. 

In  practical  politics  results  are  effected  only  at 
the  expense  of  much  time,  energy,  and  adroitness, 
and  it  is  pleasant  to  find  Whittier  so  indefatiga 
ble  in  his  self-imposed  duties.  A  letter  of  George 
Bradburn's  to  his  wife,  written  in  1846,  shows 
how  others  viewed  his  efforts :  — 

"  John  is  one  of  the  greatest  workers,  politi 
cally  even,  in  all  our  State.  I  sometimes  wonder 
how  so  fine  a  mind  can  stoop  to  such  drudgery. 
But  Whittier  has  as  much  benevolence  as  he  has 
ideality.  He  knows  the  drudgery  must  be  done, 
and,  since  no  one  else  does  it,  will  do  it  himself. 
May  Heaven  bless  him."  1 

1 A  Memorial  of  George  Bradburn  (1883),  146. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    205 

An  extract  from  a  letter  written  by  Whittier  to 
his  sister  in  1845  will  indicate  even  more  plainly 
the  way  in  which  he  patrolled  his  district :  — 

"Mother  is  at  Haverhill.  On  Sixth  day  I 
carried  her  up,  and  then  proceeded  upon  *my 
mission  among  the  abolitionists.  Got  to  Haver- 
hill,  called  on  several  of  the  4  Liberty  men,'  and 
finally  held  a  meeting  — a  sort  of  impromptu 
affair  —  at  which  eloquent  speeches  were  made 
by  several  gentlemen,  Mr.  Algernon  Sydney 
Nichols  among  the  rest.  When  it  came  to  my 
turn  I  began  with  as  much  vehemence  as  Mr. 
Pickwick,  but  broke  down  about  midway,  and 
gradually  subsided  into  a  sort  of  melancholy 
monotone,  which  under  other  circumstances 
would  have  been  very  affecting.  As  it  was,  I 
am  not  very  sanguine  of  its  effect  upon  my 
audience,  but,  like  Paul's  unknown  tongues,  it 
at  least  edified  myself.  ...  From  Haverhill  I 
went  to  Bradford,  called  on  Father  P.,  heard 
his  testimony  against  the  come-outers ;  called  on 
the  come-outers  and  heard  theirs  against  Father 
P., —  listening  with  patient  but  non-committal 
civility  to  both, —  urging  all  parties  to  forego 
their  contentions  and  emulate  each  other  in  the 
good  cause  of  Liberty.  Then  I  drove  down  to 
Griffin's  ;  took  dinner,  and  then  he  and  I  started 
for  Newbury  and  Newburyport,  where  I  trust 
we  did  good  service."  l 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  309. 


206       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

But  this  earnest  work  in  local  politics  did  not 
preclude  his  personal  participation  in  the  larger 
field.  His  eye  was  fixed  on  the  national  issue, 
and  he  was  not  diverted  by  local  issues,  by  tem 
porary  successes  or  defeats.  He  realized  the 
value  of  every  move  in  the  great  game.  He 
helped  wherever  he  could,  most  of  all  by  his 
counsel.  He  was  Joseph  Sturge's  guide  in  his 
effort  to  throw  the  weight  of  Quaker  organiza 
tion  on  the  anti-slavery  side ;  he  devised  petitions 
to  the  Massachusetts  legislature  and  to  Congress, 
and  was,  with  Henry  Wilson,  delegated  in  1845 
to  carry  to  Washington  the  Liberty  petition, 
containing  sixty  thousand  names,  against  the 
annexation  of  Texas ;  he  urged  on  John  P.  Hale 
in  New  Hampshire  politics  ;  he  aided  in  various 
coalitions,  notably  that  by  which  Boutwell  be 
came  governor  of  Massachusetts  and  Charles 
Sumner  went  to  the  Senate.  In  the  latter  case 
Sumner  was  apparently  the  man  of  Whittier's 
own  choosing  and  Whittier  the  intermediary 
who  persuaded  Sumner  to  enter  the  scheme,  and 
his  memory  of  their  interview  at  Swampscott 
found  its  place  in  his  verse  :  — 

"  Thou  knowest  my  heart,  dear  friend,  and  well  canst  guess 
That,  even  though  silent,  I  have  not  the  less 
Rejoiced  to  see  thy  actual  life  agree 
With  the  large  future  which  I  shaped  for  thee, 
When,  years  ago,  beside  the  summer  sea, 
White  iu  the  moon,  we  saw  the  long  waves  fall 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    207 

Baffled  and  broken  from  the  rocky  wall, 

That,  to  the  menace  of  the  brawling  flood, 

Opposed  alone  its  massive  quietude, 

Calm  as  a  fate ;  with  not  a  leaf  nor  vine 

Nor  birch-spray  trembling-  in  the  still  moonshine, 

Crowning  it  like  God's  peace."  1 

He  was  alert  to  discover  men  of  sincerity  of 
purpose  and  good  repute  with  the  public  at 
large  who  could  represent  the  third  party  in 
Congress  or  elsewhere.  He  urged  John  Pierpont 
and  Longfellow  to  run  for  Congress,  and  sug 
gested  many  excellent  nominations,  as  would 
be  expected  of  one  who,  as  editor  and  poet, 
knew  the  real  feelings  of  New  Englanders  per 
haps  better  than  any  other  living  man.  And 
when  he  found  the  moral  enthusiast  and  the 
politician  combined,  he  was  active  in  guiding 
him  by  sound  advice  and  stimulating  him  to 
renewed  effort.  Sumner  came  to  Amesbury  to 
consult  him  and  was  in  frequent  correspondence 
with  him, —  a  correspondence  that  had  less  in  it 
of  personal  friendship  than  of  common  devotion 
to  a  great  mission.  The  following  letter  of 
1848,  for  example,  is  typical  of  many  :  — 

"  In  the  mean  time,  what  will  the  New  York 
Barnburners  do?  Is  there  no  hope  of  uniting 
with  them,  and  erecting  on  the  ruins  of  the  old 
parties  the  great  party  of  Christian  Democracy 
and  Progress  ?  Why  try  to  hold  on  to  these  old 

1  To  Charles  Sumner  (1854). 


208     JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

parties,  even  in  name?  ...  It  strikes  me  that 
it  would  be  best  not  to  make  a  nomination  at 
Worcester,  but  to  appoint  delegates  to  a  general 
convention  of  the  friends  of  Freedom  and  Free 
Soil,  without  distinction  of  party,  the  time  and 
place  of  which  not  to  be  fixed  before  consultation 
with  friends  of  the  movement  in  other  States. 
Don't  stultify  yourselves  by  boasting  of  your 
Whiggery.  That  did  when  Taylor  was  nomi 
nated.  Judge  Allen  is  right :  the  Whig  party 
is  dissolved.  Let  your  emancipated  friends  now 
rise  to  the  sublime  altitude  of  men  who  labor  for 
the  race,  for  humanity.  Send  out  from  your 
convention,  if  you  will,  a  long  and  careful  state 
ment  of  the  facts  in  the  case,  but  with  it  also  an 
appeal  to  the  people  which  shall  reach  and  waken 
into  vigorous  life  all  that  remains  of  weakness 
in  the  North.  Kindle  up  the  latent  enthusiasm 
of  the  Yankee  character,  call  out  the  grim  fa 
naticism  of  the  Puritan.  Dare !  dare  !  DARE  ! 
as  Danton  told  the  French ;  that  is  the  secret  of 
successful  revolt.  Oh,  for  a  man !  There  is 
the  difficulty,  after  all.  Who  is  to  head  the 
movement  ?  Hale  has  many  of  the  martial  qual 
ities  of  a  leader.  As  a  stump  orator  he  is  second 
only  to  John  Van  Buren,  who,  by  the  bye,  I 
would  far  rather  see  in  nomination  for  the  presi 
dency  than  his  father  or  Judge  McLean.  It 
would  be  folly  and  suicide  to  nominate  a  shrink- 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    209 

ing  conservative,  whose  heart  is  not  with  you, 
and  whom  you  must  drag  up  to  your  level  by 
main  force.  .  .  .  You  must  have  a  new  and  bold 
man,  one  to  whom  old  notions  and  practices  on 
the  question  of  slavery  are  like  threads  of  tow, 
breaking  with  the  first  movement  of  his  limbs. 
But  this  advice,  however  well  meant  on  my  part, 
is  doubtless  not  needed.  You  have  strong  and 
noble  men,  —  Adams,  Howe,  Phillips,  Wilson, 
Hoar,  Allen,  and  others.  I  only  wish  you  had 
the  power  of  the  French  provisional  govern 
ment;  I  could  answer  for  the  wisdom  of  your 
decrees."  l 

All  this,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  in  a 
period  of  turmoil  and  disaster,  of  scheming  and 
compromising,  a  period  that  appeared  inexpressi 
bly  ignoble  to  the  simple-minded  theorists  who 
held  for  the  pure  ideal.  In  the  world-old  conflict 
for  justice,  they  have  the  better  part  who,  like 
Garrison,  can  stand  alone,  insisting  on  the  moral 
regeneration  of  the  public,  and  waiting  for  the 
millennium.  Whittier,  like  all  reforming  politi 
cians,  chose  the  less  ideal  but  equally  necessary 
task  of  helping  by  main  force  to  bring  about  the 
right,  little  by  little,  point  by  point,  fighting  in 
the  ruck  of  it  all,  and  open  always  to  the  charge 
of  merely  temporizing.  Nor,  in  his  special  case, 
could  he  even  hope  to  secure  a  politician's  reward 

i  Pickard,  Life,  i.  331. 


210       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

of  fame.  He  was  only  doing  what  many  others 
did  —  the  plain  political  duty  of  the  citizen  re 
former. 

But  Whittier's  best  service  to  the  cause  to 
which  he  has  devoted  his  life  was  through  his 
pen,  in  both  his  old  qualities,  so  oddly  diverse, 
of  journalist  and  of  poet. 

In  the  winter  of  1841-42  he  took  charge  for 
a  short  period  of  the  Boston  "  Emancipator  "  to 
relieve  his  old  friend  Joshua  Leavitt,  and  in  the 
autumn  of  1841  he  had  lent  similar  aid  to  the 
"American  and  Foreign  Anti-Slavery  Reporter," 
which  had  been  begun  in  New  York  in  June, 
1840,  as  the  mouthpiece  of  the  "  new  organiza 
tion,"  the  American  and  Foreign  Anti-Slavery 
Society.  Those  were  the  days  when  Garrison 
was  under  criticism  for  upholding  other  heresies 
than  emancipation  in  the  "Liberator,"  and  it 
was  plainly  this  that  Whittier  had  in  mind  when 
in  April,  1841,  he  wrote  to  the  "  Reporter  "  a 
letter  of  warm  commendation :  "  Its  crowning 
glory  is  that  it  is  precisely  what  it  pretends  to 
be  —  an  anti-slavery  paper.  It  adheres  to  its 
one  object  with  singleness  of  purpose.  It  neither 
assails  nor  encourages  other  schemes  for  reform 
which  may  be  abroad  in  society."  In  spite  of 
this,  the  "  Reporter  "  was  a  very  dull  sheet  in 
deed,  a  mere  official  bulletin,  not  worthy  of 
comparison  with  the  "  Liberator."  The  officers 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    211 

of  the  new  society  apparently  felt  this,  for  in  the 
issue  of  September  1,  1841,  the  executive  com 
mittee  were  happy  "  to  announce  that  they  have 
secured  the  services  of  John  G.  Whittier  in  the 
Editorial  Department  of  the  '  Reporter,'  as  far 
as  the  state  of  his  health  will  admit."  A  para 
graph  from  "\Vhittier  follows  to  state  that  "  he 
has  engaged  to  contribute  to  the  Editorial  De 
partment  of  the  '  Reporter,'  as  far  as  the  state 
of  his  health  and  his  present  necessary  absence 
from  the  place  of  publication  will  permit.  He 
can  promise  little  save  an  honest  effort  to  aid 
the  cause  to  which  the  best  portion  of  his  life 
has  been  hitherto  devoted.  Situated  as  he  is,  it 
is  due  to  all  parties  concerned  to  say  that  he  can 
be  held  responsible  for  nothing  more  than  such 
articles  as  may  bear  his  signature." 

The  same  number  contains  articles  by  Whit- 
tier  on  Joseph  Sturge  and  on  Slavery  in  the  Dis 
trict  of  Columbia.  In  the  following  number,  that 
of  October  1,  1841,  the  editor  falls  sturdily  upon 
Edward  Everett,  whom  he  had  so  soundly  be 
rated  in  1836.  Everett  had  since  then  distinctly 
avowed  an  entire  change  of  opinion  on  the  sub 
ject  of  emancipation,  and  professed  a  thorough 
conversion  to  the  doctrines  of  the  abolitionists. 
But  his  nomination  as  minister  to  England  had 

O 

just  been  confirmed  by  the  Senate,  and  AVhittier 
suspected  him  of  having  intimated  to  interested 


212       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

parties  that  his  conversion  had  been  merely  tem 
porary  :  — 

"  Governor  Everett  is  now  in  Europe.  We 
will  do  him  the  justice  to  believe  that  the  pitiful 
disclaimers  of  his  political  friends,  in  and  out  of 
Congress,  have  been  made  without  his  consent 
or  even  knowledge,  and  that  in  his  letters  to 
Quincy,  Borden,  and  Jackson,  he  really  meant 
ivhat  he  said.  It  must,  we  conceive,  somewhat 
abate  his  satisfaction  in  view  of  his  appointment, 
to  learn  that  it  was  only  obtained  by  strenuous 
efforts  on  the  part  of  his  professed  friends,  to 
show  that  his  anti-slavery  professions  were  purely 
hypocritical,  and  that  he  had  been  mean  and 
wicked  enough  to  obtain  abolition  votes  in  Mas 
sachusetts  wider  false  2wetences." 

But  the  executive  committee  must  have  seen 
the  hopelessness  of  their  effort,  even  with  Whit- 
tier's  aid.  No  other  number  of  the  "  Reporter  " 
appeared  until  June,  1842,  and  then  there  were 
no  articles  signed  by  Whittier  and  apparently 
none  written  by  him.1 

In  1844  Whittier  again  assumed  charge  of 
one  of  the  many  local  abolitionist  organs,  this 
time  the  weekly  "  Middlesex  Standard,"  of  Low 
ell,  the  first  number  of  which  was  published 

1  For  the  opportunity  to  examine  the  file  of  this  now  very 
rare  periodical  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  the  Library 
of  Cornell  University. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    213 

under  his  editorship  on  July  25.  He  took  lodg 
ings  at  the  Temperance  Hotel  in  Lowell,  and 
continued  to  furnish  the  greater  part  of  the 
original  matter  for  the  paper  until  October, 
when  Mr.  C.  L.  Knapp,  of  Vermont,  joined  him 
as  an  assistant.  Beginning  with  October  31, 
Whittier  and  Knapp  were  joint-editors,  but  the 
paper  was  gradually  turned  over  to  the  latter. 
After  the  issue  of  March  13, 1845,  it  was  consoli 
dated  with  the  Worcester  County  Liberty  paper, 
and,  as  the  "  Worcester  and  Middlesex  Ga 
zette,"  was  published  both  in  Worcester  and  in 
Lowell. 

In  the  columns  of  this  obscure  sheet,  only  one 
file  of  which  is  known  to  be  preserved,1  is  to  be 
found  what  seems  to  me  Whittier's  best  work  as 
a  journalist.  It  was  a  new  paper ;  he  was  in 
complete  control ;  he  was  at  the  height  of  his 
power  and  experience;  he  was  addressing  the 
men  of  his  own  county  in  the  midst  of  an  excit 
ing  campaign  ;  and  he  was  perhaps  stimulated  to 
do  his  best  by  the  strikingly  vigorous  life  of  the 
young  manufacturing  city.  Certainly  he  never 
wrote  with  more  freedom  and  energy,  with  less 
personal  reticence.  In  the  issue  of  September 
12, 1844,  he  thus  welcomed  Ralph  Waldo  Emer 
son's  "Address  Delivered  in  the  Court  House 
of  Concord  on  the  1st  of  August,  1844 :  " 

1  In  the  collection  of  the  Lowell  Historical  Society. 


214       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

"  With  a  glow  of  heart,  with  silently  invoked 
blessings,  we  have  read  the  address  whose  title 
is  at  the  head  of  this  article.  We  had  previ 
ously,  we  confess,  felt  half  indignant  that,  while 
we  were  struggling  against  the  popular  current, 
mobbed,  hunted,  denounced  from  the  legislative 
forum,  cursed  from  the  pulpit,  sneered  at  by 
wealth  and  fashion  and  shallow  aristocracy, 
such  a  man  as  Kalph  Waldo  Emerson  should 
be  brooding  over  his  pleasant  philosophies,  writ 
ing  his  quaint  and  beautiful  essays,  in  his  retire 
ment  on  the  banks  of  the  Concord,  unconcerned 
and  '  calm  as  a  summer  morning.'  .  .  .  How 
could  he  sit  there,  thus  silent  ?  Did  no  ripple 
of  the  world's  agitation  break  the  quiet  of  old 
Concord?  Garrison's  fierce  trumpet  blast  — 
Love  joy's  heroic  death  —  the  women  of  Boston 
beset  by  aristocratic  mobs  —  Birney's  shattered 
printing-presses  sinking  in  the  Ohio  —  that  sub 
lime  old  man  of  Quincy  contending  single-handed 
with  the  Slave-Power  in  Congress  —  Channing's 
prophet-utterances  among  Berkshire  mountains 
—  Pierpont's  Tyrtaean  words,  —  not  even  these 
seemed  to  startle  the  philosophic  dreamer,  or 
disturb  the  organ-flow  of  his  beautiful  abstrac 
tions." 

An  even  more  striking  editorial  was  that  in 
which,  at  the  end  of  the  Polk-Clay-Birney  cam 
paign,  he  defended  himself  against  the  charge 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    215 

of  inconsistency  in  deserting  Clay,  his  youthful 
verses  in  whose  praise  his  opponents  had  not 
hesitated  to  circulate  :  — 

"  So  far  as  we  were  personally  concerned,  we 
had  no  disposition  to  exaggerate  the  faults  of  the 
"Whig  candidate.  His  brilliant  talents,  his  early 
republicanism,  his  splendid  eloquence,  excited 
our  boyish  enthusiasm  and  admiration.  We 
would  not  rob  him  of  one  tittle  of  his  just  fame 
as  a  statesman  and  man  of  genius.  But  when 
his  friends  urged  him  upon  us  for  the  highest 
place  in  the  gift  of  a  free  people,  we  felt  bound 
to  speak  the  whole  truth  of  his  present  position 
and  past  history  in  relation  to  the  cause  of  Free 
dom.  We  had  no  other  alternative.  In  linking, 
deliberately  and  before  the  world,  his  destiny 
with  the  tottering  cause  of  slavery  —  in  closing 
his  eyes  to  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  his  ears 
to  the  shouts  of  the  emancipated  millions  and 
the  clang  of  breaking  fetters  sounding  across 
the  waters  from  half  the  nations  of  Europe, 
and  placing  his  strong  shoulders  against  the 
falling  Ark  of  the  American  Baal,  making 
himself  the  champion  of  the  vilest  oppression  on 
which  the  sun  looks, —  he  imposed  upon  the 
friends  of  the  slave  the  stern  duty  of  denouncing 
him  as  unfit  to  be  the  recipient  of  public  favor ; 
and  of  declaring  that  the  man  who  —  in  the 
land  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  in  this 


216       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Nineteenth  Century,  with  the  light  of  the  gospel 
and  the  free  principles  of  the  Revolution  blaz 
ing  around  him,  with  the  voice  of  the  Almighty 
speaking  in  the  great  events  of  the  age  and 
proclaiming  that  the  power  of  human  despotism 
is  to  pass  away  forever,  and  that  a  new  era  of 
light,  liberty,  and  Christian  love  is  about  to 
dawn  upon  the  world, —  with  the  successful  ex 
periments  of  emancipation  in  the  West  Indies 
before  him  —  has  deliberately  and  unreservedly 
taken  his  stand  on  the  side  of  SLAVERY,  over 
come  the  scruples  of  his  younger  and  better 
days,  crucified  his  humanity,  and  renounced  his 
allegiance  to  republicanism  and  Christianity, — 
is  unworthy  of  the  suffrages  of  a  people  pro 
fessedly  governed  by  the  principles  of  Him  who 
came  to  preach  deliverance  to  the  captive,  and 
the  opening  of  the  prison  to  them  that  are 
bound.  This  duty,  which  he  himself  imposed 
on  us,  we  have  fearlessly  and  faithfully  per 
formed —  in  common  with  many  others  of  his 
early  admirers  and  friends  —  men  who  have 
watched,  with  a  Chaldean's  love,  the  star  of  his 
greatness,  while  it  rose  apparently  to  a  glorious 
culmination.  Lustreless  and  waning  in  its 
unblessed  conjunction  with  the  malignant  in 
fluences  of  slavery,  we  have  been  compelled  to 
turn  from  it  ourselves,  and  warn  others  to  do 
likewise." 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    217 

Similarly,  he  took  charge,  in  1845,  of  the 
Amesbury  "  Village  Transcript,"  which  changed 
its  name  to  the  "  Essex  Transcript "  and  became 
the  organ  of  the  third  party  in  that  district.  No 
file  of  it  can  now  be  found,  but  Mr.  Stephen 
Lamson,  a  compositor,  has  left  the  following 
interesting  reminiscences  of  Whittier's  relations 

O 

to  the  paper  at  that  period :  — 

"  He  did  not  pretend,  or  wish  it  understood, 
that  he  was  editor  of  the  paper ;  but  he  was  its 
godfather,  and  undertook  to  see  that  it  went  the 
way  it  should  go.  He  did  not  sign  his  editorials. 
Often  sickness  or  absence  would  prevent  his 
coming  into  the  office  for  some  time,  and  Mr. 
Abner  L.  Bagley  and  Rev.  Mr.  Strickland  would 
take  his  place.  This  continued  about  four  years, 
when  the  proprietor,  Mr.  J.  M.  Pettengill,  sold 
out,  and  the  paper  became  the  village  organ 
again.  .  .  .  Mr.  Whittier  was  then  a  man  of 
thirty-seven,  tall,  straight,  and  spare,  with  sharp, 
good  features,  handsome  face,  black  eyes,  with  a 
long-shaped  head,  and  a  towering  intellectual 
forehead.  He  wore  a  Quaker  medium  hat,  as 
well  as  coat,  and  used  his  '  thees '  and  '  thous  '  in 
conversation.  He  was  not  a  fluent  talker,  never 
put  on  superior  airs,  but  assumed  the  common 
place  in  his  intercourse  with  neighbors,  friends, 
and  the  villagers  generally.  I  remember  one  or 
two  stores,  kept  by  good  friends  of  his, —  one  a 


218       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Baptist  deacon,  the  other  a  Friend, —  where  he 
used  to  visit  when  going  to  the  post  office ;  and 
it  was  his  wont  to  sit  on  boxes  and  barrels,  as 
we  have  seen  them  crowd  together  in  a  small 
village  grocery  store,  and  do  his  visiting,  and 
learn  the  news  of  the  day,  or  talk  over  political 
matters,  —  for  in  these  two  friends  he  found 
congenial  spirits.  This  was  one  of  his  ways  of 
taking  recreation.  In  my  three  years'  acquaint 
ance  with  him,  and  observation  of  him  in  his 
daily  visits  to  our  office  to  read  the  papers,  I 
noticed  that  if  something  of  great  importance 
attracted  his  attention,  he  would  nervously  grasp 
a  pen,  and  thoughts  that  scintillated  from  his 
brain  would  rush  across  the  paper  before  him  at 
a  rapid  rate,  in  a  clear,  smooth,  running  hand 
that  would  surprise  me.  When  the  written 
pages  went  into  the  copy  drawer,  it  would  be 
found  in  a  beautiful  flowing  hand,  with  seldom 
an  emendation  or  any  interlining,  he  held  his 
ideas  in  such  perfect  form  and  control.  I  used 
to  call  it  a  '  lightning  hand,'  so  rapidly  did  the 
pen  fly  over  the  paper.  His  sister  used  to  have 
a  literary  circle  to  improve  her  young  friends  in 
various  ways.  My  father's  adopted  daughter 
was  a  member  of  it,  and  was  delighted  to  think 
she  was  worthy  to  belong  to  Miss  Whittier's 
circle.  Mr.  Whittier  used  to  lend  sanction  and 
help  to  these  friends  of  his  sister,  and  became 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    219 

acquainted  with  each  one.  He  used  always, 
when  I  saw  him,  to  have  something  to  say  about 
this  sister  and  about  my  father,  and  I  was 
grateful  for  it." 

Whittier's  anonymous  prose  in  these  little 
anti-slavery  journals  may  be  compared  with  the 
yeoman  work  he  did  in  district  politics.  It  was 
transient  and  local  in  its  aim  and  in  its  effects, 
but  it  was  sane,  shrewd,  vigorous,  noble  writing, 
and  Whittier  would  not  have  been  himself  had 
he  not  done  it.  His  message  to  the  people  of 
the  North  at  large,  on  the  other  hand,  was  given 
not  in  prose  but  in  verse. 

The  political  poems  of  this  period  are  not 
many.  Perhaps  fifty,  printed  wherever  the  oc 
casion  demanded,  have  been  preserved  in  later 
editions  of  his  works,  and  there  seems  to  be 
scarcely  a  dozen  that  were  not  republished.  But 
though  their  bulk  was  slight,  their  importance 
was  great.  He  was  not  a  poet  of  his  party  but 
the  poet.  He  knew  the  hearts  of  the  people  so 
well,  his  thought  and  his  emotions  were  so  repre 
sentative  of  all  the  country-living  Northerners, 
of  all  those  whose  ideas  of  national  economics 
were  not  blinded  by  commerce  or  convention, 
that  an  increasing  multitude  found  in  him  their 
spokesman.  The  mass  of  these  poems  now  seem 
obscure  or  trivial.  He  lamented  reformers  who 
had  died  in  their  harness ;  he  satirized  his  oppo- 


220       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

nents ;  he  commented  freely  on  whatever  current 
events  needed  the  rapid  and  incisive  treatment 
that  his  verse  could  give.  All  these,  it  would 
appear,  must  ultimately  perish  or  be  read  for 
their  antiquarian  interest  alone,  even  such  su 
perb  verses  as  those  sung  by  the  army  of  Kansas 
emigrants :  — 

"  We  cross  the  prairie  as  of  old 

The  Pilgrims  crossed  the  sea, 
To  make  the  West  as  they  the  East, 
The  homestead  of  the  free  ! " 

Only  two  still  ring  out  now  after  more  than  half 
a  century  as  resonantly  as  they  sounded  then, — 
"  Ichabod  "  and  "  Massachusetts  to  Virginia." 

Of  "  Ichabod  "  it  would  be  improper  to  speak 
without  quoting  what  Whittier  himself  said  as 
to  its  origin  :  — 

"  This  poem  was  the  outcome  of  the  surprise 
and  grief  and  forecast  of  evil  consequences  which 
I  felt  on  reading  the  seventh  of  March  speech  of 
Daniel  Webster  in  support  of  the  '  compromise  ' 
and  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law.  No  partisan  or 
personal'  enmity  dictated  it.  On  the  contrary, 
my  admiration  of  the  splendid  personality  and 
intellectual  power  of  the  great  Senator  was  never 
stronger  than  when  I  laid  down  his  speech,  and, 
in  one  of  the  saddest  moments  of  my  life,  penned 
my  protest.  I  saw,  as  I  wrote,  with  painful 
clearness,  its  sure  results,  —  the  Slave  Power 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    221 

arrogant  and  defiant,  strengthened  and  encour 
aged  to  carry  out  its  scheme  for  the  extension 
of  its  baleful  system,  or  the  dissolution  of  the 
Union,  the  guaranties  of  personal  liberty  in  the 
free  States  broken  down,  and  the  whole  country 
made  the  hunting-ground  of  slave-catchers.  In 
the  horror  of  such  a  vision,  so  soon  fearfully  ful 
filled,  if  one  spoke  at  all,  he  could  only  speak  in 
tones  of  stern  and  sorrowful  rebuke. 

"  But  death  softens  all  resentments,  and  the 
consciousness  of  a  common  inheritance  of  frailty 
and  weakness  modifies  the  severity  of  judgment. 
Years  after,  in  4  The  Last  Occasion,'  I  gave  ut 
terance  to  an  almost  universal  regret  that  the 
great  statesman  did  not  live  to  see  the  flag  which 
he  loved  trampled  under  the  feet  of  Slavery,  and, 
in  view  of  this  desecration,  make  his  last  days 
glorious  in  defence  of  '  Liberty  and  Union,  one 
and  inseparable.'  " l 

Those  whom  Whittier  knew  best  in  later  life 
relate  that  he  came  eventually  to  feel  that  Web 
ster  was  perhaps  right  and  he  wrong ;  that 
compromise  meant  weary  years  of  waiting,  but 
that  the  further  and  consistent  pursuit  of  such 

1  Prefatory  note  in  the  Cambridge  Edition.  The  title  may 
have  been  suggested  by  Lowell's  sentence  in  the  National 
Anti-Slavery  Standard,  July  2,  1846  :  "  Shall  not  the  Record 
ing  Angel  write  Ichabod  after  the  name  of  this  man  in  the 
great  book  of  Doom  ?  " 


222       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

a  policy  might  have  successfully  avoided  the 
evils  of-  war  and  of  reconstruction.  However 
that  may  be,  the  verses  are,  in  their  awful  scorn, 
the  most  powerful  that  he  ever  wrote.  Eight 
or  wrong,  he  spoke  for  a  great  part  of  the 
North  and  West,  nay,  for  the  world.  For  the 
poem,  in  much  the  same  fashion  as  Browning's 
"  Lost  Leader,"  is  becoming  disassociated  with 
any  special  name,  and  may  thus  remain  a  most 
remarkable  expression  —  the  most  terrible  in 
our  literature  —  of  the  aversion  which  any  mass 
of  people  may  feel,  especially  in  a  democracy, 
for  the  once-worshipped  leader  whose  acts  and 
words,  in  matters  of  the  greatest  public  weal, 
seem  to  retrograde. 

"  Massachusetts  to  Virginia  "  is,  in  a  corre 
sponding  fashion,  the  one  most  likely  to  survive 
of  a  group  of  half  a  dozen  poems,  written  in  the 
forties,  in  connection  with  the  fugitive  slave 
cases  or  the  annexation  of  Texas.  They  are  in 
essence  battle-songs,  rallying-cries  for  the  rous 
ing  of  the  people.  Like  "  Ichabod,"  "  Massa 
chusetts  to  Virginia  "  is  a  perfect  expression  of 
sectional  feeling ;  the  summing  up,  in  impas 
sioned  verse,  of  one  side  of  a  great  controversy ; 
the  complete  brief  for  the  North;  the  rhetori 
cally  logical  statement  of  a  feeling  that  itself 
went  counter  to  logic  and  to  law.  If  the  law 
was  to  be  obeyed,  if  the  constitutional  contract 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    223 

was  not  to  be  set  aside,  then  property  —  even 
were  it  property  in  men  —  must  be  respected  in 
one  State  as  in  another.  But  in  the  North  aboli 
tionists  and  compromisers  alike  had  formulated 
a  higher  law  and  were  determined  to  ignore  all 
obligations  based  on  slavery  :  — 

"  All  that  a  sister  State  should  do,  all  that  a  free  State  may, 
Heart,  hand,  and  purse  we  proffer,  as  in  our  early  day ; 
But  that  one  dark  loathsome  burden  ye  must  stagger  with 

alone, 
And  reap  the  bitter  harvest  which  ye  yourselves  have  sown ! " 

Even  now  it  would  be  impossible  for  the 
Southerner  to  find  beauty  in  a  presentation  of 
the  subject  so  extravagant  in  its  details,  so  bit 
ter  in  its  opposition  ;  but  may  not  the  poem  sur 
vive,  both  for  the  swinging  force  of  its  lines  and 
as  a  brilliant  example  of  sectional  indignation, 
when  the  occasion  that  prompted  it  is  forgot 
ten  ? 

To  Whittier,  Massachusetts  and  Virginia  were 
not  names  or  abstractions  or  personifications. 
His  firm  connection  with  life,  his  preoccupation 
with  people  and  places,  forced  him  to  visualize 
where  others  would  have  generalized.  The  men 
of  Virginia  were  indignantly  threatening.  The 
men  of  Massachusetts  were  indignantly  defiant. 
He  saw  both  groups  as  individuals  and  made 
one  shout  to  the  other.  His  poem  was  no  aca 
demic  figure  of  speech  ;  it  was,  as  it  were,  a  com- 


224       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

posite  photograph  of  actuality,  and  may,  there 
fore,  live  as  a  type  of  all  cases  in  which  one 
sister  community  resolutely  defies  another. 

The  final  charm  lies  in  the  details  of  Whit- 
tier's  visualization  of  Massachusetts.  He  was 
never  fond  of  pure  literature.  The  books  he 
cared  most  for  were  books  of  travel.  He  loved 
people  and  towns,  he  thought  of  the  world  as  a 
great  picture,  and  of  New  England  and  espe 
cially  of  his  own  State  as  a  chain  of  common 
wealths  within  commonwealths,  each  with  its 
own  surroundings  and  characteristics.  It  is  the 
picture  of  these  communes  that  may  give  per 
manence  to  the  poem :  — 

"  A  hundred  thousand  right  arms  were  lifted  up  on  high, 
A  hundred  thousand  voices  sent  back  their  loud  reply  ; 
Through  the  thronged  towns  of  Essex  the  startling  summons 

rang, 
And  up  from  bench  and  loom  and  wheel  her  young  mechan- 


"  The  voice  of  free,  broad  Middlesex,  —  of  thousands  as  of 

one,  — 

The  shaft  of  Bunker  calling  to  that  of  Lexington ; 
From   Norfolk's   ancient  villages,  from   Plymouth's  rocky 

bound 
To  where  Nantucket  feels   the   arms  of  ocean   close   her 

round ; 

"From  rich  and  rural  Worcester,  where   through  the  calm 

repose 

Of  cultured  vales  and  fringing  woods  the   gentle  Nashua 
flows, 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    225 

To  where  Wachuset's  wintry  blasts  the  mountain  larches 

stir, 
Swelled  up  to  Heaven  the  thrilling  cry  of  '  God  save  Lati- 

mer!  ' 

"  And  sandy  Barnstable  rose  up,  wet  with  the  salt  sea  spray,  — 
And  Bristol  sent  her  answering  shout  down  Narragansett 

Bay! 

Along  the  broad  Connecticut  old  Hampden  felt  the  thrill, 
And  the  cheer  from  Hampshire's  woodmen  swept  down  from 

Holyoke  Hill." 

Whittier's  position  in  these  poems  can  only 
be  realized  when  we  remember  that  of  the 
younger  school  of  New  England  men  of  letters 
he  was  virtually  the  only  one  who  had  given  him 
self  up  to  the  cause  of  abolition.  Longfellow 
wrote  his  gentle  and  picturesque  "Poems  on 
Slavery  "  in  a  few  days  in  1842,  in  the  confine 
ment  of  a  sea  voyage,  moved  thereto  by  a  chap 
ter  in  Dickens's  "  American  Notes."  Bryant 
held  anti-slavery  opinions,  but  he  kept  aloof  from 
the  ardent  reformers,  and  certainly  did  not  over 
whelm  his  muse  with  humanitarian  politics. 
Holmes  was  occupied  with  his  profession.  Haw 
thorne  was  living  an  intense  and  solitary  inner 
life,  undisturbed  by  the  tumult  of  the  world. 
Emerson  early  sympathized  with  the  anti-slavery 
movement  in  essence,  but  his  interest  was  long 
somewhat  coldly  philosophic.  As  he  himself 
said,  he  liked  best  "  the  strong  and  worthy  per 
sons  who  support  the  social  order  without  hesi- 


226       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

tation  or  misgiving.  I  like  these;  they  never 
incommode  us  by  exciting  grief,  pity,  or  pertur 
bation  of  any  sort.  But  the  professed  philan 
thropists,  it  is  strange  and  horrible  to  say,  are 
an  altogether  odious  set  of  people,  whom  one 
would  shun  as  the  worst  of  bores  and  canters.  " 1 
Like  a  philosopher,  too,  he  saw  below  the  sur 
face  of  the  agitation,  and,  realizing  that  mere 
emancipation  was  not  all  that  was  necessary  to 
set  matters  right,  he  would  have  trusted  much 
to  time  and  to  progress  in  civilization.  It  was 
not  until  the  time  of  the  fugitive  slave  agitations 
that  he  woke  from  his  trance  and  took  an  active 
interest  in  anti-slavery  politics,  in  some  respects 
becoming  quite  naturally  an  extremist,  as  was 
shown  by  his  attitude  towards  John  Brown. 

Lowell,  drawn  into  the  reform  movement  by 
his  high-minded  young  wife,  had  for  some  time 
close  relations  with  the  abolitionists.  In  his 
class-poem  of  1838  he  had  satirized  them,  —  and 
Carlyle  and  Emerson  into  the  bargain,  —  but 
in  1843  he  wrote  of  Whittier  in  the  "  Pioneer  " 
as  "  the  fiery  Koerner  of  his  spiritual  warfare, 
who,  Scaevola-like,  has  sacrificed  on  the  altar 
of  duty  that  right  hand  which  might  have  made 
him  acknowledged  as  the  most  passionate  lyrist 
of  his  time."  In  1845  he  was  at  Philadelphia, 

1  J.  E.  Cabot,  A  Memoir  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  (1888),  ii. 
426. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    227 

writing  editorials  for  Whittier's  old  paper, 
the  "  Pennsylvania  Freeman ; "  and  in  1848-49 
he  was  corresponding  editor  of  the  "National 
Anti-Slavery  Standard."  In  1844  and  1845  he 
wrote  his  spirited  "  Kallying  Cry  for  New  Eng 
land  "  and  "  Another  Kallying  Cry  by  a  Yan 
kee,"  both  in  emulation  of  Whittier,  and  in  1846 
he  began  his  "  Biglow  Papers."  Lowell  as  a 
reformer  was  undoubtedly  sincere ;  but  he  was 
young,  with  high  thoughts  and  a  mind  undisci 
plined  by  study  or  experience.  His  reform  pe 
riod  was  a  transient  phase  of  his  life,  and  his 
interest  in  abolition  was  neither  so  narrow  nbr 
so  intense  as  that  of  Whittier.  He  was  devoted 
rather  to  the  general  cause  of  humanitarianism 
than  to  abolition,  and,  as  his  instincts  for  pure 
letters  grew  stronger,  he  followed  his  bent.  It 
is  interesting,  however,  to  contrast  his  "  Biglow 
Papers  "  with  Whittier's  political  poems.  Whit 
tier,  the  barefooted  farmer's  lad  who  milked 
cows  and  hoed  potatoes,  who  until  he  grew  up 
had  lived  on  a  lonely  farm,  Whittier  the  "  peas 
ant  "  used  the  language  he  had  always  heard 
and  spoken,  a  pure  English  speech,  with  few 
dialectic  peculiarities.  Lowell,  brought  up  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  city  and  in  the  company  of 
scholars  and  "  gentlemen,"  built  up  for  himself 
a  literary  rustic  dialect  which  no  countryman, 
if  he  used  it  at  all,  would  have  used  when  deal- 


228        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

ing  with  matters  of  importance.  Whittier,  a 
rustic  himself  and  writing  for  rustics  in  the 
usual  literary  forms,  was  read  widely  by  them, 
and  became  a  power  throughout  the  North. 
Lowell,  by  adopting  the  artificial  rustic  form,  cut 
himself  off  very  largely  from  a  rustic  audience 
and  influenced  only  city  or  literary  folk.  But, 
strange  paradox  again,  Whittier's  literary  verses, 
though  more  effective,  were  less  lasting,  and 
Lowell's  rustic  verses  have  passed  into  literature. 

In  1835  Whittier  was  thought  of  as  a  pro 
mising  young  lyricist  of  the  Byronic  type,  who 
was  beginning  to  be  interested  in  reform ;  but 
such  had  been  his  ardor  that  by  1850  he  was 
generally  thought  of  only  as  an  exuberant  aboli 
tionist  versifier :  — 

"  Ah,  Whittier !  Fighting  Friend !  I  like  thy  verse  — 
Thy  wholesale  blessing  and  thy  wholesale  curse ; 
I  prize  the  spirit  which  exalts  thy  strain, 
And  joy  when  truth  impels  thy  blows  amain ; 
But,  really,  friend !  I  cannot  help  suspecting, 
Though  writing  's  good,  there  's  merit  in  correcting ! 

"  Whittier,  adieu  !  my  blows  I  would  not  spare, 
For  when  I  strike,  I  strike  who  best  can  bear ; 
Oft  in  this  rhyme  of  mine  I  lash  full  hard 
The  man  whom  much  I  love,  as  friend  and  bard  ; 
Even  as  the  leech,  inspired  by  science  pure, 
Albeit  he  probe  and  cauterize  —  must  cure  !  " 1 

1  Parnassus  in  Pillory.  A  Satire.   By  Motley  Manners,  Esq. 
New  York,  1851. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    229 

Even  Lowell,  while  recognizing  Whittier's  patri 
otism  in  cutting  himself  completely  away  from 
the  natural  line  of  his  development,  implied  that 
the  process  was  complete.  In  a  laudatory  review 
of  his  collected  poems  in  the  "  National  Anti- 
Slavery  Standard"  for  December  21,  1848, 
Lowell  is  inclined  to  ignore  Whittier's  poems  on 
other  subjects  than  reform,  praising  him  for  the 
essentially  Yankee  flavor  of  his  verse,  but  depre 
cating  his  attempt  to  treat  local  themes  —  what 
is  the  red  man  to  us  who  are  citizens  of  the 
world  ?  —  a  criticism  characteristic  of  the  Cam 
bridge  school  of  thought,  whose  aim  was  rather  to 
Europeanize  America  than  to  aid  it  in  its  search 
for  individual  expression.  And  again,  in  the 
"  Fable  for  Critics,"  written  in  the  same  year,  he 
puts  entirely  aside  the  non-humanitarian  poems, 
and  dwells  alone  on  Whittier's  zeal  as  a  reformer. 

"  Our  Quaker  leads  off  metaphorical  fights 
For  reform  and  whatever  they  call  human  rights, 
Both  singing1  and  striking  in  front  of  the  war, 
And  hitting  his  foes  with  the  mallet  of  Thor ; 
Anne  haec,  one  exclaims,  on  beholding  his  knocks, 
Vestisfilii  tui,  0  leather-clad  Fox  ? 
Can  that  be  thy  son,  in  the  battle's  mad  din, 
Preaching  brotherly  love  and  then  driving  it  in 
To  the  brain  of  the  tough  old  Goliah  of  sin, 
With  the  smoothest  of  pebbles  from  Castaly's  spring 
Impressed  on  his  hard  moral  sense  with  a  sling  ?  " 

With  our  present  ideas  about  the  comparative 
impermanency  of  Whittier's  abolitionist  poetry 


230       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

and  the  greater  lasting  power  of  certain  other 
parts  of  his  work,  it  is  hard  to  see  how  the 
general  public  could  have  so  concentrated  its 
attention  on  a  single  element  in  his  verse,  pro 
minent  though  it  was,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
else.  And  yet  a  glance  at  the  published  vol 
umes  of  the  period  we  are  considering  will  con 
firm  the  contemporary  judgment.  "Lays  of 
my  Home"  (1843)  revealed  other  elements 
only  in  embryo;  and  "Voices  of  Freedom" 
(1846),  "Poems"  (1849),  "Songs  of  Labor" 
(I860),  "  The  Chapel  of  the  Hermits  "  (1853), 
"The  Panorama"  (1856),  though  containing 
these  elements  in  a  more  advanced  form,  did  not 
reveal  them  in  their  full  power. 

We  must,  however,  now  stop  to  trace  the 
growth  of  these  half-concealed  lines  of  develop 
ment,  which  were  to  approach  maturity  in  the 
fifties  and  in  a  later  period  were  to  give  him 
fame  of  a  new  sort. 

It  is  clear  at  the  outset  that  Whittier's  inter 
est  in  reform  extended  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
abolitionist  cause.  His  heart  pleaded  for  the 
cause  of  the  oppressed  abroad  as  well  as  at 
home.  His  voice  cheered  on  whoever  fought  for 
intellectual  or  industrial  liberty,  and  rebuked 
those  who  wilfully  ground  their  brethren  be 
neath  their  feet.  His  ideal  was  the  old  ideal  of 
the  Puritans  —  purified  and  enlarged  :  — 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    231 

"  The  riches  of  the  Commonwealth 
Are  free,  strong  minds,  and  hearts  of  health ; 
And  more  to  her  than  gold  or  grain, 
The  cunning-  hand  and  cultured  brain. 

"  For  well  she  keeps  her  ancient  stock, 
The  stubborn  strength  of  Pilgrim  Rock ; 
And  still  maintains,  with  milder  laws, 
And  clearer  light,  the  Good  Old  Cause."  l 

As  a  Quaker  Puritan  should  be,  he  was,  though 
tolerant  in  religious  matters,  a  foe  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  of  the  time  on  its  social  side. 
He  praised  the  German  liberal  Johannes  Ronge 
("  Strike  home,  strong-hearted  man  "),  and  de 
nounced  Pius  the  Ninth :  — 

"  Yet,  Scandal  of  the  World  !  from  thee 

One  needful  truth  mankind  shall  learn : 
That  kings  and  priests  to  Liberty 
And  God  are  false  in  turn." 

His  natural  fluency  in  verse,  increased  by  years 
of  practice,  and  now  controlled  by  the  insight 
acquired  in  years  of  active  political  experience, 
made  these  poems  of  invective,  if  so  they  may 
be  styled,  particularly  powerful.  They  have  the 
orator's  ringing  tone,  the  politician's  sense  of 
the  essentially  weak  points  in  the  adversary's 
armor,  the  poet's  skill  of  phrase,  and  his  art  in 
stimulating  the  emotions.  He  had  read  widely, 
and  was  quick  to  modify  his  native  style  by 

1  Our  State. 


232       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

adopting  something  of  the  tone  of  others,  as  is 
shown  by  the  plain  touch  of  Browning  in  his 
splendid  "  From  Perugia  :  "  — 

"  Off  with  hats,  down  with  knees,  shout  your  vivas  like  mad  ! 
Here  's  the  Pope  in  his  holiday  righteousness  clad, 
From  shorn  crown  to  toe-nail,  kiss-worn  to  the  quick, 
Of  sainthood  in  purple  the  pattern  and  pick, 
Who  the  role  of  the  priest  and  the  soldier  unites, 
And,  praying1  like  Aaron,  like  Joshua  fights." 

In  the  second  place,  he  was  now  so  far  re 
moved  from  his  old  Byronic  period,  so  purged  of 
his  immature  pessimism  and  rebellion  against 
the  will  of  God,  so  changed  from  his  boyish 
vanity  and  self-seeking,  that  the  world  took  on 
a  new  meaning  to  him.  Its  outward  vesture  he 
was  never  skilled  in  portraying :  his  "  nature  " 
poems  leave  the  senses  unstirred.  But  he  knew 
the  hearts  of  earnest  men,  their  despondencies, 
their  aspirations;  and  advancing  age  and  his 
Quaker  faith,  now  strong  within  him,  were  lead 
ing  him  to  give  to  the  quietism,  to  the  renuncia 
tion  to  which  the  eager  soul  must  finally  attain, 
an  expression  which  they  had  not  had  before  in 
America.  In  this  period  neither  the  idea  nor 
the  expression  was  yet  perfect,  but  one  feels  the 
power  of  both :  — 

"  Know  well,  my  soul,  God's  hand  controls 

Whate'er  thou  f  earest ; 
Round  Him  in  calmest  music  rolls 
Whate'er  thou  hearest. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    233 

"  What  to  thee  is  shadow,  to  Him  is  day, 

And  the  end  He  knoweth, 
And  not  on  a  blind  and  aimless  way 
The  spirit  goeth."  l 

It  was  not  Calvinism  that  he  thus  sang,  nor  any 
creed  of  any  church,  but  the  old  mystery  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  inherent  in  many  a  religion  and 
perhaps  to  be  confirmed  by  modern  psychology 
as  the  essence  of  religious  life,  —  that  strange 
turning  inward  of  the  mind,  beyond  the  limits 
of  the  merely  cognitive  faculties,  to  that  sub 
stratum  of  the  spirit  where  the  world  and  the 
individual  are  most  at  one  :  — 

"  I  turn  from  Fancy's  cloud-built  scheme, 
Dark  creed,  and  mournful  eastern  dream 
Of  power,  impersonal  and  cold, 
Controlling  all,  itself  controlled, 
Maker  and  slave  of  iron  laws, 
Alike  the  subject  and  the  cause  ; 
From  vain  philosophies,  that  try 
The  sevenfold  gates  of  mystery, 
And,  baffled  ever,  babble  still, 
Word-prodigal  of  fate  and  will ; 
From  Nature,  and  her  mockery,  Art, 
And  book  and  speech  of  men  apart."  2 

This  beneficent  process  of  mental  and  spirit 
ual  adjustment  to  the  world  —  parallel  to  the 
marvellous  physiological  process  by  which  the 
conservative  forces  replace  diseased  tissue  and 
conquer  toxic  influences  —  was  also  the  cause  of 
the  heightened  tenderness  that  is  observable  in 
1  My  Soul  and  I.  *  Questions  of  Life. 


234       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

the  class  of  verses  which  he  himself  classed  as 
"  subjective  and  reminiscent."  Keen  and  far- 
sighted  as  he  was  in  practical  affairs,  his  tem 
perament  was  deeply  emotional ;  a  man  of 
moods,  unmarried,  without  intimate  friendships, 
isolated,  ill,  without  the  supporting  staff  of  a 
business  or  professional  routine,  his  thoughts 
(and  too  often  his  poems)  turned  upon  himself. 
In  the  intervals  of  his  preoccupation  with  poli 
tics,  he  fell  into  introspection :  — 

"  Life's  mystery  wrapt  him  like  a  cloud ; 

He  heard  far  voices  mock  his  own, 
The  sweep  of  wings  unseen,  the  loud, 
Long  roll  of  waves  unknown."  1 

And  introspection  brought  first  that  sense  of 
disappointment  and  almost  of  bereavement  that 
sounds  now  and  then  through  his  verse,  —  "  the 
bitter  longings  of  a  vain  regret,"  —  and  then  the 
tender  idealization  of  the  early  years  in  which 
his  hopes  were  still  unbroken.  As  a  bachelor, 
he  naturally  found  his  fancies  straying  back  to 
the  might-have-beens  of  his  youth,  to  his  boyish 
affections  for  country  lassies,  of  whom  we  may 
guess  there  were  two,  one  a  more  constant  com 
panion,  recalled  in  "  Memories  "  and  "  Bene- 
dicite,"  and  one  less  familiarly  known,  but  more 
beloved,  whose  miniature  and  whose  memory  he 
always  cherished.  The  latter,  as  age  advanced, 

1  My  Namesake. 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    235 

apparently  became  for  him  more  of  a  Beatrice, 
but  his  mood  was  now  to  dream  of  the  old  child 
hood  days  with  the  former :  — 

"  Fair  Nature's  book  together  read, 
The  old  wood-paths  that  knew  our  tread, 
The  maple  shadows  overhead,  — 

"  The  hills  we  climbed,  the  river  seen 
By  gleams  along  its  deep  ravine,  — 
All  keep  thy  memory  fresh  and  green.  .  .  . 

"  God's  love  and  peace  be  with  thee,  where 
Soe'er  this  soft  autumnal  air 
Lifts  the  dark  tresses  of  thy  hair  I  " 1 

The  mood  of  reminiscence  went  further  still, 
revisualizing,  typifying,  idealizing  the  whole  field 
of  old  childish  memories,  —  the  barefoot  days, 
the  district-school  days,  —  all  full  of  sunshine 
and  joy,  but  all  with  the  touch  of  pathos  that 
comes  from  the  contrast  between  the  might-have- 
been  and  the  is.  The  public,  itself  grown  out 
of  the  old  simple  life,  was  in  the  mood  to  in 
dulge  in  such  recollections.  It  first  tasted  that 
pleasure  in  "  To  My  Old  Schoolmaster  "  (1851), 
and  more  especially  in  "  The  Barefoot  Boy " 
(1855),  which  was  less  local  in  its  interests,  and 
which  furnished  the  type  a  few  years  later  for 
Whittier's  most  famous  piece  of  verse. 

A  still  further  development  of  importance  in 

1  Benedicite. 


236       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

this  period  was  his  growing  skill  in  narrative 
verse.  In  the  1848  review  Lowell  had  spoken 
slightingly  of  Whittier's  Indian  subjects,  and 
with  reason.  After  many  experiments  Whittier 
was  compelled  to  give  them  up ;  he  never  caught 
the  Indian  mood,  the  primitive  outlook.  But 
their  place  was  filled  not  with  European  legends, 
as  was  mainly  the  case  with  others,  but  with 
those  of  colonial  days  —  the  magnolia  of  the 
Puritan  settlers,  whose  outlook  he  understood 
better  than  any  other  poet.  He  read  much  in 
old  books  and  old  records,  and,  pondering  much 
on  these  things,  began  to  recast  fragments  of  the 
antique  narratives,  to  enlarge  and  embellish  the 
familiar  incidents.  Sometimes  he  merely  pol 
ished  and  reset  a  quaint  gem,  as  in  "  The  Pro 
phecy  of  Samuel  Sewall,"  or  commented  wittily 
on  a  superstition,  as  in  "The  Double-Headed 
Snake  of  Newbury,"  or  retold  a  fact  or  a  legend 
that  had  a  point  of  piety,  as  in  "  The  Exiles," 
"  Cassandra  Southwick,"  "  The  Garrison  of  Cape 
Ann,"  and  "  The  Swan  Song  of  Parson  Avery ;  " 
or  took  a  poet's  liberty  in  inventing  supposedly 
typical  incidents,  as  in  "Mary  Garvin"  and 
"  Mabel  Martin."  He  wrote  less  than  a  score  of 
these  narrative  poems  in  a  period  covering  as 
many  years,  but  they  are  all  excellent  and  grow 
better  with  time,  for  they  were  based  on  know 
ledge  and  sympathy,  and  though  perhaps  quickly 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS   237 

written,  embody  material  long  assimilated  and 
individualized. 

Three  poems  belonging  to  this  general  group, 
"  Skipper  Ireson's  Bide,"  "  The  Telling  of  the 
Bees,"  and  "  Maud  Muller,"  are  indeed  among 
his  very  best,  and  represent  the  highest  degree 
of  skill  in  localized  narrative  that  has  yet  been 
attained  in  American  poetry.  These  are  less 
antique  in  subject,  and  two  of  them  have  no 
basis  in  fact.  After  his  long  studies  in  draw 
ing,  as  it  were,  from  historical  figures,  Whittier 
was  prepared  to  compose  for  himself  a  typical 
incident,  instead  of  culling  it  from  the  records 
of  the  past.  "  Skipper  Ireson's  Hide  "  was  built 
around  the  burden  of  a  half-remembered  old 
Marblehead  ballad,  and  though  false  to  the  facts 
of  the  actual  incident,  is  ideally  true  to  the  life 
of  that  rough  and  strange  old  town,  in  Whittier's 
days,  and  almost  to  our  own,  as  isolated,  as  in 
dividual,  as  picturesque  in  speech  and  custom 
and  outward  air  as  a  remote  fishing  village  of 
the  English  or  Brittany  coast.  It  is  a  real 
ballad,  strong  of  the  soil,  born  of  familiar  ac 
quaintance,  not,  like  Longfellow's  "  Wreck  of 
the  Hesperus,"  so  imperfectly  localized  that  the 
author  had  only  the  vaguest  notion  where  lay  his 
reef  of  Norman's  Woe ;  and  yet  we  must  not 
forget  that  the  verses  were  originally  written 
without  the  dialectic  refrain,  and  that  it  is  to 


238       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Lowell's  good  sense  that  we  owe  the  change. 
In  "  Telling  the  Bees  "  Whittier  conies  nearest 
to  the  art  of  Tennyson  or  Browning,  and  it  is 
plain  that  in  writing  it  he  had  the  latter's  work 
in  inind  ;  the  matter  is  slight,  the  development 
in  lyric  rather  than  in  narrative  form,  the 
method  restrained,  the  effect  delicate.  Its  un 
usual  tone  and  manner  make  it  less  typical  of 
Whittier,  and  it  is  not  so  well  known  as  many 
poems  less  good.  I  mention  it  here,  however,  to 
call  attention  both  to  the  element  of  imitation  in 
his  verse  and  to  his  skill  in  the  handling  of  an 
unfamiliar  form.  But  the  greatest  favorite  of 
all  was  "  Maud  Muller,"  probably  his  most  effec 
tive  piece  of  purely  narrative  poetry,  for  it  went 
at  once  to  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and,  almost 
in  spite  of  the  critics,  has  retained  its  place 
there.  It  is  very  simple  verse,  so  unpretentious 
in  form  that  it  is  now  thought  almost  common 
place,  so  unsophisticated,  so  rural  in  its  philoso 
phy  that  it  is  often  actually  despised.  And  yet 
nothing  could  ring  truer,  or  lie  closer  to  the 
heart  of  the  communities  of  the  old  Northern 
democracy,  than  Whittier's  doctrine  here  and 
elsewhere  that  instinctive  love  is  the  natural 
guide,  worth  the  real  test,  social  "  position  "  a 
negligible  quantity.  It  is  obvious  that  a  part  of 
the  effect  of  the  poem  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
simple-hearted  folks  feel  this  doctrine  to  be  true, 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    239 

and  hence  recognize  the  pathos  of  Whittier's 
illustrative  incident.  But  the  real  cause  lies 
deeper  still.  It  is  the  "  might  have  been  "  that 
is  the  familiar  quotation.  What  has  impressed 
the  people  at  large  so  tremendously  must  be, 
not  the  fact  of  convention  directing  affection, 
not  the  must-not-be  or  the  could-not-have-been, 
but  the  might-have-been,  and  that  not  merely  in 
matters  of  love  but  in  all  ultimate  and  essential 
aims  of  human  ambition.  Theoretically,  we  are 
happily  placed  in  a  land  where  social  rank 
scarcely  exists  and  opportunity  lies  open  to  all. 
No  hard  barrier  of  convention  keeps  us  from 
success.  No  rule  governs,  no  custom  prescribes, 
only  chance  controls  —  and  guides  blindly.  In 
a  complete  democracy,  more  than  elsewhere,  the 
may-be  is  the  great  joy  of  youth,  and  the  might- 
have-been  the  subtle  regret  of  age. 

All  the  while  Whittier  was  writing  prose, 
clear,  solid,  and  instructive  prose,  of  the  sort 
that  added  to  his  reputation  with  the  public  and 
increased  his  own  power  as  a  man,  a  thinker, 
and  a  poet.  We  often  forget  the  sound  basis  of 
information  on  which  a  poet's  skill  must  rest 
until  our  attention  is  in  some  way  called  to  the 
breadth  of  his  reading  or  to  the  extent  of  his 
experience.  To  read  Whittier's  prose  is  to  see 
this  sub-structure  of  his  verse. 


240       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Of  his  work  as  a  political  journalist  we  have 
already  spoken.  Besides  this  he  contributed 
general  articles  and  critical  reviews  to  his  own 
and  to  other  papers,  and  it  was  matter  of  this 
kind  which  he  furnished  to  the  "National  Era" 
from  1847  to  1860,  sometimes  to  the  extent  of 
five  or  six  columns  a  week.  Some  of  these  ar 
ticles  he  collected1  from  time  to  time  in  little 
books:  "The  Stranger  in  Lowell"  (1845), 
"  The  Supernaturalism  of  New  England"  (1847), 
"Leaves  from  Margaret  Smith's  Journal" 
(1849),  "  Old  Portraits  and  Modern  Sketches  " 
(1850),  and  "Literary  Kecreations  and  Mis 
cellanies  "(1854). 

The  sketches  that  compose  "  The  Stranger 
in  Lowell"  were  published  in  the  "Middlesex 
Standard"  during  his  brief  period  of  editorship, 

1  Among1  the  many  minor  articles  which  have  not  been  re 
printed  I  find  two  passages  of  interest :  — 

"  Our  poetry  is  cold  —  abstract  —  imitative  —  the  labor  of 
overtasked  and  jaded  intellects,  rather  than  the  spontaneous 
outgushing  of  hearts  warm  with  love,  and  strongly  sympathiz 
ing  with  human  nature  as  it  actually  exists  about  us  —  with 
the  joys  and  griefs,  the  good  and  even  the  ill  of  our  common 
humanity."  (September  9,  1847.) 

"  He  [Lowell]  is  yet  a  young  man,  and,  in  view  of  what  he  has 
already  attained,  we  have  a  right  to  expect  a  good  deal  of  his 
future.  May  he  have  strength  and  long  life  to  do  for  free 
dom  and  humanity,  and  for  the  true  and  permanent  glory  of 
American  literature,  all  that  others  less  gifted  and  subject  to 
less  favorable  circumstances  have  strived  in  vain  to  accom 
plish."  (January  17,  1850.) 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    241 

and  most  of  them  have  been  included  in  his  col 
lected  works.  His  preface  explains  their  origin  : 
"  Occupying,  during  a  brief  sojourn  in  Lowell 
the  past  autumn,  a  position  which  necessarily 
brought  him  into  somewhat  harsh  collision  with 
both  of  the  great  political  parties  on  the  eve  of 
an  exciting  election,  he  [the  author]  deemed  it 
at  once  a  duty  and  a  privilege  to  keep  his  heart 
open  to  the  kindliest  influences  of  nature  and 
society.  These  pages  are  a  transcript  —  too  free 
and  frank  perhaps  —  of  impressions  made  upon 
his  mind  by  the  common  incidents  of  daily  life." 
Written,  as  he  confesses,  "  without  plan  or  co 
herence,  penned  in  the  intervals  of  severer  and 
more  earnest  labors,  often  under  circumstances 
of  bodily  illness  and  suffering,"  these  sketches 
are  not  a  guide  to  the  town  or  a  sociological 
treatise  on  it.  But  they  reveal  in  a  charming 
way  the  characteristics  of  a  New  England  man 
ufacturing  city  in  its  early  days,  when  the  work 
ing  people  there  were  largely  of  native  origin, 
when  this  novel  mechanical  toil  was  a  great  boon 
to  women  of  little  or  no  means,  when  laborers 
had  strength  and  ambition  to  cultivate  their 
minds,  and  when  such  a  community  had  still 
in  it  an  almost  Utopian  freshness  and  vigor. 
Whittier  praised  the  women  and  the  not  ex 
hausting  labor,  was  delighted  at  the  pictur 
esque  influx  of  other  nationalities,  and  noted 


242       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

significantly  that  here  "  work  is  the  patron  saint. 
Everything  bears  his  image  and  superscription. 
Here  is  no  place  for  that  respectable  class  of 
citizens  called  gentlemen,  and  for  their  much 
vilified  brethren  familiarly  known  as  loafers." 
It  is  from  this  testimony  and  from  the  corre 
sponding  evidence  in  Lucy  Larcom's  "A  New 
England  Girlhood  "  that  we  can  reconstruct  the 
days  when  the  old  New  England  virtues  were 
holding  their  own  in  the  as  yet  unrealized  strug 
gle  with  the  ills  of  industrial  centralization. 

"  The  Supernaturalism  of  New  England  "  is 
likewise  of  value  to  the  student  of  the  old  New 
England  life.  It  attempted  to  embrace,  so  far 
as  the  author's  reading  and  experience  permitted 
him,  "  the  present  superstitions  and  still  current 
traditions  of  New  England,  in  the  hope  that  .  .  . 
it  may  hereafter  furnish  material  for  the  essay 
ist  and  the  poet  who  shall  one  day  do  for  our 
own  native  land  what  Scott  and  Hogg  and 
Burns  and  Wilson  have  done  for  theirs."  He 
includes  all  incidents  which  would  nowadays  be 
investigated  by  a  psychical  research  society,  and 
intimates  that  the  whole  subject  is  worth  further 
study ;  and  though  it  is  plain  that  he  holds  his 
judgment  in  reserve,  he  finds,  beneath  "  the 
exaggeration  and  distortion  of  actual  fact,  a 
great  truth : "  "it  is  Nature  herself  repelling 
the  slanders  of  the  materialist,  and  vindicating 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    243 

her  claim  to  an  informing  and  all-directing 
Spirit."  As  an  example  of  his  pleasant  prose 
style,  and  as  an  illustration  of  the  influences 
that  surrounded  him  as  a  child,  I  may  be  al 
lowed  to  quote  the  following  incident :  — 

"  Whoever  has  seen  Great  Pond,  in  the  East 
parish  of  Haverhill,  has  seen  one  of  the  very 
loveliest  of  the  thousand  little  lakes  or  ponds 
of  New  England.  With  its  soft  slopes  of  green 
est  verdure,  its  white  and  sparkling  sand-rim, 
its  southern  hem  of  pine*  and  maple,  mirrored, 
with  spray  and  leaf,  in  the  glassy  water,  its 
graceful  hill-sentinels  round  about,  white  with 
the  orchard-bloom  of  spring,  or  tasselled  with 
the  corn  of  autumn,  its  long  sweep  of  blue 
waters,  broken  here  and  there  by  picturesque 
headlands,  it  would  seem  a  spot  of  all  others 
where  spirits  of  evil  must  shrink,  rebuked  and 
abashed,  from  the  presence  of  the  Beautiful. 
Yet  here,  too,  has  the  shadow  of  the  super 
natural  fallen.  A  lady  of  my  acquaintance,  a 
staid,  unimaginative  church-member,  states  that 
a  few  years  ago  she  was  standing  in  the  angle 
formed  by  the  two  roads,  one  of  which  traverses 
the  pond  shore,  the  other  leading  over  the  hill 
which  rises  abruptly  from  the  water.  It  was  a 
warm  summer  evening,  just  at  sunset.  She  was 
startled  by  the  appearance  of  a  horse  and  cart 
of  the  kind  used  a  century  ago  in  New  England, 


244       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

driving  rapidly  down  the  steep  hillside,  and 
crossing  the  wall  a  few  yards  before  her,  without 
noise,  or  the  displacing  of  a  stone.  The  driver  sat 
sternly  erect,  with  a  fierce  countenance,  grasping 
the  reins  tightly,  and  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  the  left.  Behind  the  cart,  and  appar 
ently  lashed  to  it,  was  a  woman  of  gigantic  size, 
her  countenance  convulsed  with  a  blended  ex 
pression  of  rage  and  agony,  writhing  and  strug 
gling,  like  Laocoon  in  the  folds  of  the  serpent. 
Her  head,  neck,  feet,  and  arms  were  naked ; 
wild  locks  of  gray  hair  streamed  back  from 
temples  corrugated  and  darkened.  The  horrible 
cavalcade  swept  by  across  the  street,  and  disap 
peared  at  the  margin  of  the  pond." 

"Leaves  from  Margaret  Smith's  Journal  in 
the  Province  of  Massachusetts  Bay  "  is,  like  the 
two  preceding  volumes,  a  study  of  New  England 
conditions ;  but  this,  more  than  the  others,  over 
whelms  us  with  the  minuteness  of  its  antiquarian 
lore  and  with  its  philosophic  and  scholarly  grasp 
of  the  subject.  Whittier  knew  the  life  of  the 
Commonwealth  as  Scott  knew  that  of  the  Border ; 
and  at  a  time  when  most  students  of  New  Eng 
land  history  were  mere  apologists  for  the  queer 
old  theocracy,  he  was  both  acute  enough  to  see 
through  the  sham  and  wise  enough  not  to  be 
blinded  by  the  prejudice  of  reaction.  His  iso 
lation  and  his  Quakerhood  both  helped  him.  He 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    245 

was  unaffected  by  the  modern  impulse  to  glorify 
the  period  of  origin ;  he  saw  the  Massachusetts 
of  the  seventeenth  century  as  his  pioneer  ances 
tor  might  have  seen  it,  or  that  ancestor's  old 
neighbor,  Eobert  Pike,  and  not  as  Cotton 
Mather  or  Ward  of  Agawam  saw  it.  The  plot  is 
slight.  Margaret  Smith,  fresh  from  England, 
and  related  to  important  folk  among  the  settlers, 
meets  the  chief  people  in  the  Massachusetts  Bay 
Colony,  journeys  to  Newbury  and  further  east 
to  Agamenticus,  and  afterwards  to  the  heretical 
colony  in  Rhode  Island,  seeing  everywhere  the 
famous  old  worthies,  —  Saltonstalls,  Mathers, 
Sewalls,  Eliots,  Wards,  Pikes,  and  Wiggles- 
worths.  She  describes  the  bright  landscape  and 
the  strenuous  pioneer  life  with  almost  as  much 
vividness  as  Defoe  might  have  done  ;  she  sees  the 
arrogant  priesthood  smelling  out  witchcraft  and 
hunting  down  heresy ;  the  pathetic  dispossessed 
Indian  ;  the  simple-minded  Quakers,  goaded  into 
an  hysterical  fanaticism ;  the  earnest  colonists, 
also  simple-hearted,  and  at  bottom,  we  may  sur 
mise,  not  too  religious,  though  priest-ridden,  and 
keeping  alive  their  ancestral  love  of  fair  play, 
of  order  and  frugality,  of  freedom  and  tolera 
tion,  of  plain  common  sense  mingled  with  energy 
and  aspiration  —  virtues  that,  as  the  power  of 
the  hierarchy  was  slowly  broken,  were  to  become 
the  real  source  of  the  greatness  of  New  England. 


246       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

The  book  will  never  be  widely  read.  It  is  too 
slight  in  substance,  too  sober  in  style.  But  no 
single  modern  volume  could  be  found  which  has 

O 

so  penetrated  the  secret  of  colonial  times  in 
Massachusetts,  for  it  is,  almost  line  by  line,  a 
transcript  and  imaginative  interpretation  of  old 
letters,  journals,  and  memoirs.  There  is  scarcely 
a  passage  in  it  that  is  not  based  on  a  given 
document,  scarcely  a  seeming  fancy  that  is  not 
closely  paralleled  by  fact. 

"  Old  Portraits  and  Modern  Sketches  "  was  a 
collection  of  ten  little  essays  which  had  previ 
ously  appeared  in  the  "  National  Era,"  seven  of 
which  deal  with  such  old  worthies  as  Bunyan 
and  Ell  wood.  The  remaining  three  are  on  the 
abolitionists,  William  Leggett  and  Nathaniel 
P.  Rogers,  both  of  whom  had  recently  died,  and 
on  the  Windham  farmer  and  versifier,  Robert 
Dinsmore,  —  a  charming  little  essay,  to  which  I 
called  attention  in  connection  with  Whittier's 
boyish  admiration  for  Burns.  These  articles 
show  no  special  research,  but  they  are  far  from 
commonplace,  and  they  deserve  to  be  read  more 
often  than  they  are.  Their  two  striking  charac 
teristics,  revealing  Whittier's  taste  and  temper, 
are  an  absence  of  literary  allusion  and  a  praise 
worthy  unwillingness  to  generalize.  Strictly 
speaking,  Whittier  did  not  care  much  for  litera 
ture.  He  loved  men  and  things  and  books  of 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    247 

biography  and  travel ;  he  liked  to  know  how  the 
world  looked  and  what  brave  spirits  had  wrought 
in  it.  Toward  fiction  and  fanciful  poetry  he  does 
not  seem,  in  his  maturity,  to  have  been  strongly 
drawn;  and  he  was  constitutionally  averse  to 
creating  philosophic  theories  about  life  or  let 
ters.  These  traits,  which  differentiate  him  from 
Lowell  and  Emerson,  give  his  essays  a  marked 
sobriety  and  actuality  of  tone,  which  limit  their 
range  and  their  effectiveness,  but  which  have  for 
the  attentive  reader  a  special  and  individual 
charm. 

"  Literary  Recreations  and  Miscellanies  "  con 
tains  much  matter  from  "  The  Stranger  in  Low 
ell  "  and  from  "  The  Supernaturalism  of  New 
England,"  and  about  a  dozen  fresh  studies,  which 
had  also  appeared  in  the  "  National  Era,"  on  New 
England  antiquities,  of  which  the  essay  on  the 
"  Great  Ipswich  Fright  "  is  typical.  It  contains 
also  several  articles  of  literary  criticism,  which 
throw  fresh  light  on  Whittier's  reading  and  his 
sound  judgment.  He  was  not  a  learned  reader, 
like  Lowell,  nor  a  philosophic  reader,  like  Emer 
son,  nor  indeed  a  wide  reader  in  pure  litera 
ture,  like  Longfellow.  But  these  few  essays,  as 
well  as  his  correspondence,  the  testimony  of  his 
friends,  and  the  books  on  his  shelves,  show  him 
to  have  been  a  man  of  very  considerable  infor 
mation,  and  capable  of  giving  sound  judgment 


248       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHIT  TIER 

on  good  literature.  He  recognized  the  merits 
of  Macaulay's  History  without  being  too  much 
repelled  or  attracted  by  its  rhetoric.  He  was 
pardonably  indignant  at  Carlyle's  "  Occasional 
Discourse  on  the  Negro  Question,"  a  certain 
fundamental  justness  in  which  he  was  less  able 
than  we  are  to  appreciate,  and  which  he  thought 
took  "  issue  with  the  moral  sense  of  mankind 
and  the  precepts  of  Christianity."  He  recog 
nized  the  value  of  Bayard  Taylor's  works.  He 
liked  Dr.  Holmes's  verse  ("  a  merry  doctor !  "). 
He  welcomed  Longfellow's  "  Evangeline :  "  — 
"  Eureka  !  Here,  then,  we  have  it  at  last,  —  an 
American  poem,  with  the  lack  of  which  British 
reviewers  have  so  long  reproached  us."  In  the 
old-fashioned  manner  which  became  him  so  well, 
he  took,  too,  the  liberty  of  departing  speedily 
from  the  book  in  question,  to  discourse  on  the 
ideas  which  it  suggested.  In  the  case  of  "  Evan 
geline,"  which  had  been  his  subject  as  well  as 
Hawthorne's  before  Longfellow  took  it  up,  he 
was  drawn  at  once  into  a  consideration  of  the 
mingling  virtues  and  vices  in  the  old  New  Eng 
land  Puritanism,  the  closing  passage  of  which  is 
worth  quoting  here  as  another  admirable  illus 
tration  of  his  own  tolerance  of  spirit  and  keen 
ness  of  mental  vision  :  — 

"  Of  all  that  is  noble  and  true  in  the  Puritan 
character  we  are  sincere  admirers.     The  gener- 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    249 

cms  and  self-denying  apostleship  of  Eliot  is,  of 
itself,  a  beautiful  page  in  their  history.  The 
physical  daring  and  hardihood  with  which, 
amidst  the  times  of  savage  warfare,  they  laid 
the  foundations  of  mighty  states,  and  subdued 
the  rugged  soil,  and  made  the  wilderness  blos 
som  ;  their  steadfast  adherence  to  their  religious 
principles,  even  when  the  Restoration  had  made 
apostasy  easy  and  profitable  ;  and  the  vigilance 
and  firmness  with  which,  under  all  circumstances, 
they  held  fast  their  chartered  liberties  and  ex 
torted  new  rights  and  privileges  from  the  reluc 
tant  home  government,  — justly  entitle  them  to 
the  grateful  remembrance  of  a  generation  now 
reaping  the  fruits  of  their  toils  and  sacrifices. 
But  in  expressing  our  gratitude  to  the  founders 
of  New  England,  we  should  not  forget  what  is 
due  to  truth  and  justice  ;  nor,  for  the  sake  of 
vindicating  them  from  the  charge  of  that  reli 
gious  intolerance  which,  at  the  time,  they  shared 
with  nearly  all  Christendom,  undertake  to  de 
fend,  in  the  light  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
opinions  and  practices  hostile  to  the  benignant 
spirit  of  the  gospel  and  subversive  of  the  inher 
ent  rights  of  man." 

Such  was  Whittier's  product  in  verse  and  in 
prose  during  the  long  middle  period  of  his  life, 
—  a  period  less  important  in  its  actual  results 


250       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

than  it  was  potentially,  for  he  was  still  identified 
in  the  public  mind  with  abolitionism,  and  much 
of  his  best  work  was  yet  to  be  done.  It  was  for 
the  most  part  a  period  of  disappointment,  weak 
ness,  and  hardship,  and  his  prevailing  mood 
seems  to  have  been  indicated  in  this  letter  to 
"  Grace  Greenwood  :  "  — 

"  5th  mo.,  10,  1849. 

"  We  have  had  a  dreary  spring  —  a  gray  haze 
in  the  sky  —  a  dim,  beam-shorn  sun  —  a  wind 
from  the  northeast,  cold  as  if  sifted  through  all 
the  ices  of  frozen  Labrador,  as  terrible  almost 
as  that  chill  wind  which  the  old  Moslem  fable 
says  will  blow  over  the  earth  in  the  last  days. 
The  birds  hereabout  have  a  sorry  time  of  it,  as 
well  as  '  humans.'  There  are  now,  however, 
indications  of  a  change  for  the  better.  The 
blossoms  of  the  peach  and  cherry  are  just  open 
ing,  and  the  arbutus,  anemones,  and  yellow  vio 
lets  are  making  glad  and  beautiful  the  banks  of 
our  river.  I  feel  daily  like  thanking  God  for 
the  privilege  of  looking  upon  another  spring. 
I  have  written  very  little  this  spring,  —  the 
'Legend  of  St.  Mark'  is  all  in  the  line  of  verse 
that  I  have  attempted.  I  feel  a  growing  dis 
inclination  to  pen  and  ink.  Overworked  and 
tired  by  the  long  weary  years  of  the  anti-slavery 
struggle,  I  want  mental  rest.  I  have  already 
lived  a  long  life,  if  thought  and  action  constitute 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    251 

it.    I  have  crowded  into  a  few  years  what  should 
have  been  given  to  many." l 

But  the  late  summer  of  his  life  was  slowly 
opening.  The  accumulative  power  of  his  narra 
tive  and  reminiscent  verse  was  impressing  the 
people,  and  his  poetry  began  to  be  remunerative. 
In  1849  B.  B.  Mussey  and  Company  of  Boston 
paid  him  five  hundred  dollars  for  the  copyrights 
of  all  his  verse  hitherto  issued,  and  published  his 
collected  poems  in  a  handsome  volume,  on  which 
he  received  a  royalty  and  which  passed  into  a 
third  edition.  At  about  the  same  time  James  T. 
Fields,  whom  Whittier  had  known  for  some 
years,  began  his  connection  with  the  publishing 
house  of  Mr.  Ticknor.  He  had  a  hearty,  genial 
personality,  and  a  genuine  and  fairly  acute  taste 
for  literature,  a  taste  which  was  then  rare  in  that 
perilous  field  of  enterprise  where  many  fail  and 
few  prosper,  and  only  those  succeed  in  publishing 
books  that  are  both  good  and  remunerative  who 
have,  as  a  sort  of  sixth  sense,  an  appreciation  for 
the  essentials  of  real  literature  which  is  almost 
as  great  as  the  genius  of  the  poet  or  the  novelist. 
Fields  drew  Whittier  with  him  and  found  the  best 
in  him,  and  from  1850  on  Whittier's  new  books 
were  published  by  the  Ticknor  firm,  which  finally 
purchased  Mussey's  rights  and  issued  the  blue 
and  gold  volumes  of  Whittier's  collected  poems 

1  Pickard,  Life,  i.  335. 


252       JOHN  ORE  EN  LEAF  WHITTIER 

in  1857.  Under  such  good  management,  his 
royalties  grew  larger  and  the  long  pressure  of 
poverty  began  to  be  relaxed. 

Friends  and  acquaintances  in  abundance 
Whittier  had  always  had,  brothers-in-arms  in 
the  cause  of  reform,  political  and  religious,  and 
colleagues,  neighbors,  and  townsmen ;  but  his 
companions  both  by  choice  and  necessity  were 
almost  always  simple  rural  folks,  unknown  to 
fame  now  or  then,  but  righteous,  sturdy  souls,  to 
whom  he  justly  gave  due  honor.  Like  the  typi 
cal  New  Englander,  who  is  in  essence  a  man  of 
the  sea-coast  village  or  the  hill  hamlet,  he  opened 
his  heart  to  few  or  none,  and  lived  the  old  life 
of  reticence  and  privacy,  so  foreign  to  town  and 
city  ways.  City  people,  indeed,  he  seems  to  have 
thought  of  as  a  slightly  different  breed  of  men, 
perhaps  slightly  to  be  distrusted.  With  Holmes, 
at  that  period,  he  had  no  acquaintance,  and  with 
Longfellow  he  was  always  on  terms  of  formality ; 
Emerson  he  knew  a  little  better,  but  not  at  all 
well.  Hawthorne  he  seems  scarcely  to  have  met. 
With  Lowell  he  had  been  brought  into  relations 
by  their  common  an ti- slavery  interests.  They 
wrote  to  each  other  without  much  restraint  as 
occasion  demanded,  but  nothing  like  intimacy 
existed  between  them.  Whittier  was  a  member 
of  the  Saturday  Club  of  the  Boston  circle  of 
authors,  and  he  was  one  of  the  charter  members, 


REFORMER  AND  MAN  OF  LETTERS    253 

so  to  speak,  of  the  "Atlantic"  group.  He  was 
in  correspondence  with  Sumner,  Hale,  and  other 
men  of  political  importance.  Beecher  and  Phil 
lips  supped  with  him  at  the  Amesbury  cottage 
and  lectured  for  him  at  the  Amesbury  Lyceum. 
In  1858  he  was  elected  an  overseer  of  Harvard 
College.  He  was  becoming  a  man  of  national  dis 
tinction,  and  his  social  and  intellectual  position 
was  secure.  But  in  city  life  he  appeared  rarely 
and  reluctantly,  partly  on  account  of  ill  health, 
largely  from  preference ;  and  in  his  letters  to 
men  of  affairs  and  men  of  letters  alike  the  tone 
of  genuine  affection  is  missing.  An  exception 
must  perhaps  be  made  in  the  case  of  Sumner, 
and  certainly  in  the  case  of  Bayard  Taylor,  whose 
genius  he  early  recognized,  and  towards  whom 
he  was  drawn  from  the  first.  The  letters  that 
passed  between  them  are  tokens  of  a  warm 
though  probably  by  no  means  an  intimate  friend 
ship,  and  they  enjoyed  their  infrequent  meetings. 
Taylor  wrote  to  a  friend,  July  22,  1850 :  — 
"  Friday  morning  early,  Lowell  and  I  started  for 
Amesbury,  which  we  reached  in  a  terrible  north 
easter.  What  a  capital  time  we  had  with  Whit- 
tier,  in  his  nook  of  a  study,  with  the  rain  pouring 
on  the  roof,  and  the  wind  howling  at  the  door !  " 
In  the  main,  however,  Whittier  led  a  secluded 
and  a  lonely  life.  It  was  natural  to  his  individual 
temperament  and  to  his  emotional  inheritance. 


254       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHIT  TIER 

It  was,  moreover,  the  source  of  his  power  as  a 
poet.  Only  the  pure  mind,  unstained  by  passion, 
only  the  solitary  heart,  given  over  to  meditation, 
was  capable  of  throwing  over  the  simple  farming 
life  a  reminiscent  glamour  of  boyish  romance. 


CHAPTER  VI 

POET 

1860-1892 

WHITTIER'S  direct  and  formal  connection  with 
the  main  body  of  abolitionists  had  ceased  about 
1840,  in  consequence  of  his  determination  to 
stand  by  the  lesser  body,  the  "  new  organization," 
of  which  he  was  one  of  the  leaders,  in  its  desire 
to  build  up  a  third  political  party.  The  line  of 
advance  of  this  body  naturally  became  a  result 
ant,  a  series  of  compromises  and  adjustments  for 
the  sake  of  ultimately  securing  the  end  in  view. 
That  end  was  secured ;  but  long  before  that  the 
formal  "  new  organization  "  had  disappeared  and 
its  members  had  become  participants  in  the  vari 
ous  political  movements  that  led  to  the  formation 
of  the  Republican  party.  The  "  old  organiza 
tion  "  held  itself  intact  to  the  last,  and  even, 
under  the  direction  of  Wendell  Phillips,  tried  to 
maintain  itself,  after  the  adoption  of  the  Thir 
teenth  Amendment,  as  an  instrument  for  secur 
ing  the  political  equality  of  the  negro.  But 
Garrison,  who  had  not  shifted  his  course  by  a 
fraction  of  a  point  since  the  establishment  of  the 


256       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

"  Liberator  "  in  1831,  closed  the  career  of  that 
journal  at  the  passage  of  the  amendment.  It 
was  then  a  fit  time  for  all  men  to  unite  in  prais 
ing  the  constancy  to  their  great  cause  of  the 
abolitionist  chiefs  and  their  followers,  and  such 
internal  differences  of  opinion  as  had  existed 
among  the  agitators  were  lost  in  the  common 
rejoicing  over  their  victory  in  establishing  their 
main  principle.  Garrison  and  Whittier  ex 
changed  affectionate  letters  on  more  than  one 
occasion.  Garrison  was  glad  to  pay  honor  to  his 
old  friend  and  co-worker,  in  spite  of  their  diver 
gent  views  as  to  the  means  to  be  employed  in 
their  crusade.  In  1865,  when  Garrison's  fellow- 
townsmen  of  Newburyport  congratulated  him  on 
the  triumphant  culmination  of  his  life  work,  and 
formally  celebrated  his  visit  to  his  birthplace, 
Whittier  wrote  a  hymn  for  the  services  in  the 
city  hall ;  and  in  1863,  at  the  time  of  the  com 
memoration  of  the  thirtieth  anniversary  of  the 
formation  of  the  American  Anti-Slavery  Society, 
he  concluded  his  formal  letter  of  reminiscence, 
written  for  publication,  with  this  open  statement 
of  his  long-centinued  affection :  "  For  thyself,  I 
need  not  say  that  the  love  and  esteem  of  early 
boyhood  have  lost  nothing  by  the  test  of  time." 
Thus,  by  kindly  and  fraternal  words  on  both  sides, 
the  breach  was  closed,  and  the  biographer  has 
the  satisfaction  of  recording  the  complete  recon- 


POET  257 

ciliation  of  those  two  noble  men,  whose  lives  and 
work  have  been  so  strangely  intermingled. 

With  the  growth  of  anti-slavery  opinion  in  the 
North  that  marked  the  close  of  the  compromise 
period,  and  with  the  birth  of  the  new  party, 
Whittier's  active  share  in  politics  decreased. 
The  cause  of  anti-slavery,  however,  remained  the 
great  interest  of  his  life.  As  a  Quaker  and  as  a 
believer  in  reform  by  legal  means,  he  deprecated 
John  Brown's  wild  attempt  to  kindle  the  flames 
of  rebellion,  and  though  in  the  main  an  upholder 
of  the  Union,  he  was  horror-stricken  by  the  war. 
He  followed  Sumner  in  his  opposition  to  Seward's 
attempts  at  a  last  compromise,  but  he  would  al 
most  have  preferred  dissolution  to  the  terrible 
alternative,  and  he  had  to  the  last  a  feeling  —  in 
which  his  usual  sagacity  was  absent  —  that  some 
how  the  trial  by  arms  could  then  be  avoided :  — 

"For  myself,  I  would  like  to  maintain  the 
Union  if  it  could  be  the  Union  of  our  fathers. 
But  if  it  is  to  be  in  name  only ;  if  the  sacrifices 
and  concessions  upon  which  it  lives  must  all  be 
made  by  the  Free  States  to  the  Slave;  if  the 
peaceful  victories  of  the  ballot-box  are  to  be 
turned  into  defeats  by  threats  of  secession ;  if 
rebellion  and  treason  are  to  be  encouraged  into 
a  standing  menace,  a  power  above  law  and  Con 
stitution,  demanding  perpetual  sacrifice,  I,  for 
one,  shall  not  lift  a  hand  against  its  dissolution. 


258       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

As  to  fighting,  in  any  event,  to  force  back  the 
seceders,  I  see  no  sense  in  it.  Let  them  go  on 
with  their  mad  experiment,  the  government  sim 
ply  holding  its  own,  and  enforcing  its  revenue 
laws,  until  this  whole  matter  can  be  fairly  sub 
mitted  to  the  people  for  their  final  adjudication." l 

The  war  once  begun,  his  principles  did  not 
allow  him  to  approve  it  nor  to  aid  the  belliger 
ents  he  thought  to  be  fighting  for  the  right :  he 
could  only  wait  the  outcome  with  anxious  sorrow. 
But  he  continually  urged  that  slavery  was  the 
real  point  at  issue,  and  in  his  correspondence  with 
men  of  authority  and  influence  in  the  United 
States  and  in  England,  he  helped  to  keep  the 
vital  question  at  the  front.  In  the  matter  of 
reconstruction  he  held  to  Sumner's  extreme  doc 
trine. 

The  main  interest  in  Whittier's  life  was  poli 
tics  rather  than  literature,  and  it  could  not  be 
expected  that  this  interest  would  die  away  when 
the  cause  to  which  he  devoted  himself  had  tri 
umphed.  He  still  watched  the  affairs  of  the 
state  and  the  nation,  and  gave  counsel  freely,  as 
befitted  one  grown  old  in  political  service.  He 
exerted  himself  to  counteract  the  bitter  feeling 
against  Sumner  which  arose  after  his  attack  on 
Grant's  administration  in  1872 ;  and  he  was 
foremost  in  the  persistent  effort  that  resulted 
1  Fickard,  Life,  ii.  436. 


POET  259 

in  annulling  the  Massachusetts  resolutions  of 
censure  against  him  for  his  proposition  that  the 
names  of  battles  in  the  Civil  War  should  not  be 
borne  on  the  flags  of  national  regiments.  He 
urged  the  education  of  the  negro  and  the  Indian  ; 
he  praised  Gordon,  soldier  though  he  was;  he 
interested  himself  in  various  minor  causes;  he 
wrote  in  commendation  or  in  suggestion  to 
prominent  government  officials  and  to  great  pol 
iticians  ;  he  was  consulted  in  district  and  state 
affairs.  Too  old  to  change  his  vote  when  the 
reaction  against  the  Republicans  set  in,  he  yet 
felt  the  force  of  the  counter  movement  and  re 
spected  its  best  motives.  Long  a  partisan,  he 
became  in  his  later  years  a  lover  of  the  right  irre 
spective  of  party,  a  friend  of  freedom  and  truth 
and  honest  dealing  under  any  name. 

In  word  as  well  as  in  deed  Whittier's  share  in 
the  anti-slavery  conflict  grew  less.  It  had  passed 
beyond  the  phase  in  which  his  pen  or  his  counsel 
could  aid.  As  long  as  the  strife  was  one  of  in 
tellect  and  emotion,  and  the  appeal  was  to  the 
judgment  and  the  ballot,  his  verses  were  power 
ful  instruments  in  the  bloodless  strife.  But  now 
that  the  passions  of  men  were  aflame,  the  Quaker's 
lips  were  dumb.  His  old  stinging  satire  flashed 
out  for  an  instant,  at  need,  when,  to  use  his  own 
words  of  years  later,  "  in  the  stress  of  our  ter 
rible  war,  the  English  ruling  class,  with  few  ex- 


260       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

ceptions,  were  either  coldly  indifferent  or  hostile 
to  the  party  of  freedom."  But  this  was  the  only 
occasion  where  he  could  render  such  a  service. 
His  religion  —  stern  in  this  precept  only  —  kept 
him  away  from  the  strife,  out  of  real  sympathy 
with  it,  for  to  his  creed  the  blood-stained  triumph 
was  scarcely  a  victory,  though  a  defeat  at  arms 
would  have  been  the  worst  punishment  God 
could  have  visited  upon  his  cause.  His  station 
was  with  the  old  men,  the  women,  and  the  chil 
dren,  helpless,  innocent,  pathetically  resigned  to 
the  woes  which  were  not  of  their  making  and 
yet  which  engulfed  them.  The  verses  wrung 
from  him  in  these  bitter  years  were  not  the  war 
rior's  shout,  but  the  wail  of  the  stricken  woman, 
the  prayer  of  faith  and  resignation  that  breathed 
submission  to  the  will  of  Heaven  and  trust  in  the 
outcome  of  the  right.  His  poems  in  this  vein, 
"  Thy  Will  be  Done  "  and  "  Ein  Feste  Burg  ist 
Unser  Gott,"  were  thus  the  voice  of  a  great  mul 
titude,  and  in  this  way  he  was  still  the  spokesman 
of  the  North. 

Indeed,  the  Friend  was  able,  after  a  fashion, 
to  speak  even  to  the  soldier  in  his  grimmest 
mood.  The  desire  he  had  above  all  others,  he  told 
one  of  the  Hutchinson  singers  before  the  war, 
was  to  write  verses  that  might  be  sung.1  But  the 
battle-hymn  of  a  people  is  as  rarely  written  by 

1 J.  W.  Hutchinson,  Story  of  the  Hutchinsons  (1896),  397. 


POET  261 

the  man  of  genius  as  is  the  music  to  which  it 
is  sung.  To  catch  the  rhythm  to  which  armies 
shall  march,  to  find  the  simple  tune  that  the 
men  in  the  ranks  must  sing,  to  come  upon  the 
crude  imagery  which  shall  express  the  obscure, 
underlying,  slowly  evolving  thought  of  a  myriad 
multitude,  is  not  the  task  for  a  lettered  man. 
The  wordless  passion  must  spread  from  brain  to 
brain  until  felt  by  the  people  at  large,  until  its 
accumulated  might  utters  itself  spontaneously  in 
some  simple  form  on  the  lips  of  some  obscure 
singer  whom  chance  shall  choose.  Thus  it  was 
with  "  John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in 
the  grave  "  and  with  "  We  're  coming,  Father 
Abraham,  one  hundred  thousand  strong,"  and, 
indeed,  with  "  Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of 
the  coming  of  the  Lord,"  —  the  mystical  utter 
ance  of  an  excited  woman,  who  scarcely  knew 
what  she  wrote.  But  though  Whittier  could  not 
make  such  songs,  —  no  poet  could  or  did,  — 
"  We  wait  beneath  the  blast  "  and  other  verses 
were  sung  to  the  Union  soldiers  by  the  Hutchin- 
son  family  —  strange  band  of  minstrels  before 
the  Lord  —  and  aroused  great  enthusiasm  by 
their  moral  force.  Especially  strong  was  the 
effect  of  the  stanza  :  — 

"  What  gives  the  wheat-field  blades  of  steel  ? 

What  points  the  rebel  cannon  ? 
What  sets  the  roaring  rabble's  heel 
On  the  old  star-spangled  pennou  ? 


262       JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHITTIEE 

What  breaks  the  oath 

Of  the  men  o'  the  South  ? 

What  whets  the  knife 

For  the  Union's  life  ?  — 

Hark  to  the  answer  :  Slavery !  " 

The  army  authorities  were  at  first  unwilling 
to  have  such  plain  truths  uttered,  and  the  per 
mission  given  to  the  Hutchinsons  was  revoked. 
But  the  matter  was  carried  up  to  President 
Lincoln,  who  read  the  poems  to  the  Cabinet  and 
declared  that  those  were  the  very  songs  he 
wanted  his  soldiers  to  hear. 

The  poetry  of  any  permanent  value  produced 
by  the  war,  both  in  the  North  and  in  the  South, 
is  very  small  in  quantity,  and  may  perhaps  be 
regarded  as  virtually  reducing  itself  to  Whit 
man's  "  My  Captain,"  Lowell's  "  Commemora 
tion  Ode,"  and  Whittier's  "  Barbara  Frietchie." 
The  first  is  possibly  the  greatest,  in  that  it  is  the 
most  direct  and  spontaneous  translation  of  the 
emotion  of  a  people  into  beautiful  imagery ; 
the  second  is  the  thoughtful  exposition,  by  the 
scholar  and  the  statesman,  of  the  national  retro 
spect  ;  the  third  is  the  only  ballad  of  the  con 
flict,  North  or  South,  that  has  found  its  way  to 
the  hearts  of  the  people.  The  alleged  facts  on 
which  "  Barbara  Frietchie  "  was  founded  have 
been  somewhat  hotly  discussed ;  but  it  is  clear 
that  Whittier  was  guiltless  of  distorting  in  any 
way  the  incident  as  it  was  reported  to  him,  and 


POET  263 

that,  furthermore,  whether  the  supposed  incident 
actually  occurred  or  not  is  of  no  importance.  It 
was  rumored  to  have  occurred,  and  the  rumor 
was  accepted  as  a  fitting  image  of  a  real  and 
great  emotion  of  the  people.  For  the  incident 
and  the  poem  are  nothing  but  Webster's  feder 
alist  speeches  put  into  ballad  form,  nothing  but 
a  type  of  the  great  fact  of  common  nationality 
which  both  sections  were  forgetting.  The  stars 
and  stripes  seemed  to  the  South  to  stand  for  un 
just  interference  with  the  rights  of  certain  states, 
and  it  became  to  them,  as  to  the  Union  army, 
not  the  symbol  of  the  country  but  only  of  the 
North.  The  gray-haired  woman,  herself  a  re 
minder  of  the  epoch  when  sectional  differences 
did  not  exist,  by  her  loyalty  to  the  old  standard 
under  circumstances  where  it  was  regarded  only 
as  a  hostile  emblem,  is  thus  the  incarnation  of 
the  honor  due,  both  North  and  South,  to  the 
banner  of  our  fathers,  an  honor  in  these  later 
years  now  again  paid  throughout  our  land.  The 
rebuke  offered  to  the  South  was  sectional  in 
its  appeal ;  it  was  unjust  in  its  inference  that 
General  Jackson  was  not  acting  a  noble  part  in 
his  defence  of  his  state.  But  a  popular  ballad 
cannot  be  delicate  in  its  shading.  The  "  rebel " 
leader  must  feel  the  blush  of  shame,  just  as  he 
must  melodramatically  order  a  company  to  shoot 
at  a  flag,  instead  of  quietly  instructing  a  corporal 


264       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

to  have  it  removed.  The  power  of  the  poem  now, 
and  its  high  significance  then,  lay  not  merely 
in  its  perfect  form,  but  in  the  direction  which 
it  gave  the  thoughts  of  every  reader  toward 
the  ideal  of  national  unity. 

As  the  burden  of  his  political  cause  bore  less 
heavily  on  his  shoulders,  Whittier  turned  with 
alacrity  to  his  older  moods,  which,  as  he  explains 
in  the  prelude  to  "  The  Tent  on  the  Beach,"  he 
had  all  the  while  felt  calling  him :  — 

"  For  while  he  wrought  with  strenuous  will 

The  work  his  hands  had  found  to  do, 
He  heard  the  fitful  music  still 

Of  winds  that  out  of  dream-land  blew. 
The  din  about  him  could  not  drown 
What  the  strange  voices  whispered  down ; 
Along  his  task-field  weird  processions  sweptj 
The  visionary  pomp  of  stately  phantoms  stepped. 

"  The  common  air  was  thick  with  dreams,  — 

He  told  them  to  the  toiling  crowd  ; 
Such  music  as  the  woods  and  streams 

Sang  in  his  ear  he  sang  aloud  ; 
In  still,  shut  bays,  on  windy  capes, 
He  heard  the  call  of  beckoning  shapes, 
And,  as  the  gray  old  shadows  prompted  him, 
To  homely  moulds  of  rhyme  he  shaped  their  legends  grim." 

The  best  poems  of  this  last  period  are  thus 
narrative  or  legendary  or  religious  rather  than 
political.  Already  an  old  man,  he  was  destined 
to  make  his  position  in  American  poetry  secure 
by  a  comparatively  long  period  of  devotion  to 


POET  265 

the  ideals  of  his  boyhood,  achieving  in  his  full- 
ripened  maturity  with  skill  and  success  what  he 
had  wrought  at  so  blunderingly  in  his  youth. 

His  narrative  poems  were  somewhat  influenced 
in  form  by  those  of  Longfellow,  but  differ  dis 
tinctly  from  his  in  subject,  Longfellow's  shorter 
pieces  being  much  more  frequently  the  retelling 
of  foreign  rather  than  native  tales.  Whittier's 
subjects,  on  the  contrary,  were  by  preference 
American  and  New  England.  He  loved  Oriental 
apologues,  as  befitted  one  who  read  travels 
greedily  and  whose  trend  of  thought  was  eth 
ical,  and  was  skilful  in  framing  them ;  but  he 
dwelt  with  most  affection  on  native  legends  and 
was  most  successful  in  treating  them.  Here  the 
long  studies  of  old  days  and  his  complete  famil 
iarity  with  local  history  and  tradition  availed  him 
at  last.  The  Indian  reappears,  not  tricked  out, 
like  Mogg  Megone,  in  the  style  of  Scott  and 
tinged  with  the  mood  of  Byron ;  no  longer  an 
active,  struggling,  dramatic  creature,  hated,  war 
ring,  and  oppressed,  but  a  mere  phantom  of 
colonial  days,  softened  by  long  retrospect,  dim 
memories  of  whom  are  awakened  by  aged  mon 
uments,  and  whose  harsh  traits  are  subdued 
by  antiquity.  The  old  Quaker  figures  reappear 
—  martyrs,  protestants,  and  prophets  —  in  the 
"  Pennsylvania  Pilgrim  "  and  in  a  number  of 
shorter  poems.  And  they  are  joined  by  the 


266       JOHN  GEEENLEAF  WHITTIER 

witches  and  their  judges,  the  whole  dramatis 
personce  of  the  period  of  supernaturalism ;  by 
seventeenth-century  maidens  and  their  lovers, 
by  soldiers  like  John  Underbill,  by  Parson 
Bachiler,  and  by  the  dim  shadows  of  less  well- 
known  folk,  until  the  buried  past  rises,  spectre- 
like,  to  earth  again. 

In  this  ballad-making,  as  I  have  remarked, 
Whittier  owes  much  to  Longfellow ;  for  though 
he  was  himself  a  pioneer  in  the  field,  he  for  a 
time  well-nigh  deserted  it,  whereas  Longfellow 
came  to  it  fresh  from  the  narrative  romances  of 
Europe  and  with  abundant  leisure.  But  in  the 
native  ballad,  when  he  returned  to  cultivate  it, 
Whittier  far  surpassed  Longfellow  in  force  and 
in  truth.  Longfellow's  eyes  were  turned  Europe- 
ward,  and  he  wrote  of  his  old  land  like  a  half- 
familiar  stranger.  Whittier's  smallest  phrase  is 
accurately  true  to  fact,  to  tradition,  or  to  our 
sense  of  the  typical  and  probable.  Beneath  the 
artistic  form  lies  the  firm  skeleton  of  history,  as 
beneath  the  often  fanciful  Norse  saga  is  plainly 
to  be  felt  the  presence  of  actual  locality,  inci 
dent,  and  personality.  He  realized,  too,  like  the 
wise  antiquary,  the  limitations  of  the  colonial  civ 
ilization,  —  its  prejudice  and  cruelty,  its  crude- 
ness  and  barrenness,  —  and  he  saw,  in  later 
times,  not  only  the  sturdy  descendants  of  the 
old  stock,  but 


POET  267 

"  Shrill,  querulous  women,  sour  and  sullen  men, 
Untidy,  loveless,  old  before  their  time, 
With  scarce  a  human  interest  save  their  own 
Monotonous  round  of  small  economies, 
Or  the  poor  scandal  of  the  neighborhood."  l 

This  group  of  narrative  poems  are  all  his 
torical  in  character  and  moralizing  in  purpose 
save  one,  unique  in  Whittier's  work,  "  Annie 
and  Rhoda,"  which,  as  Mr.  Higginson  observes, 
bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  modern 
pseudo-mediaeval  ballads  of  Rossetti,  and  which, 
I  may  add,  was  probably  composed  under  his 
influence,  for  the  range  and  variety  of  Whit- 
tier's  poetical  experiments  have  not  been  suffi 
ciently  noted.  Whittier  was  keen  to  see  the 
elements  of  another's  art  and  to  enrich  his  own 
thereby.  He  profited  not  only  by  the  models  of 
his  boyhood  but  —  more  slightly  —  by  Tenny 
son,  Browning,  and  Arnold  ;  and  it  is  pleasant 
to  hear  Rossetti's  note  of  Old  World  supernat- 
uralism  echoed  back  in  this  grim  ballad  of  -Cape 
Ann,  in  which  the  maiden  who  has  buried  her 
affection  in  her  heart  sees  the  vision  of  the 
wrecked  and  lost  fisherman  and  hears  his  cry, 
while  his  betrothed  is  blind  to  the  sight  and  deaf 
to  his  words.  It  was  not  often  that  the  reticent 
old  Quaker,  holding  so  closely  to  the  fact,  thus 
gave  his  fancy  play. 

1  Prelude  to  Among  the  Hills. 


268       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

Much  interest,  too,  attaches  to  three  narrative 
poems  of  this  period,  "  The  Maids  of  Attitash," 
"Among  the  Hills,"  and  "Amy  Wentworth," 
the  last  by  far  the  most  beautiful,  all  tracking 
back  to  the  moral  of  "  Maud  Muller."  They  are 
indeed  its  companion  pieces,  showing  the  happy 
loves  of  those  mated  in  affection,  the  happier 
for  their  disparity  in  wealth  and  social  stand 
ing.  It  was  Whittier's  own  heart  that  spoke 
here,  prompted,  no  doubt,  by  his  observation  of 
the  growing  gulf  created  by  various  degrees  of 
fortune  between  men  and  women  who  were  by 
nature  each  other's  best  mates ;  and  no  social 
or  ethical  teaching  of  his  is  more  needed  in  our 
own  time  than  this  true  and  democratic  doctrine 
of  his  that  the  old  stock  must  be  grafted  with 
the  new,  that 

"  The  stream  is  brightest  at  its  spring1, 

And  blood  is  not  like  wine  ; 
Nor  honored  less  than  he  who  heirs 
Is  he  who  founds  a  line." 

Whittier's  feeling  on  this  point  may  be  ima 
gined  to  have  some  connection,  however  remote, 
with  what  we  infer  to  have  been  his  own  experi 
ence  —  some  love  of  his  youth,  it  would  appear, 
having  lapsed  because  he  was  too  plainly  a  poor 
farmer's  lad.  In  the  mood  of  reminiscence  that 
grew  more  intense  as  his  share  in  active  life 
decreased,  it  would  seem  that  his  fancy  dwelt 


POET  269 

more  and  more  on  this,  exaggerating  in  his 
dreams  the  social  distance  between  him  and  his 
child-love.  In  "  My  Playmate,"  "  The  Hench 
man,"  the  "  Sea  Dream,"  the  same  theme  ap 
pears,  dealt  with  more  or  less  freely.  He  was 
"  the  boy  who  fed  her  father's  kine,"  and  is  still 
a  rustic,  while  "  haply  with  her  jewelled  hands 
she  smooths  her  silken  gown  :  "  — 

"  And  still  the  pines  of  Ramoth  wood 

Are  moaning  like  the  sea,  — 

The  moaning  of  the  sea  of  change 

Between  myself  and  thee  !  " 

And  thus  this  country  girl  with  the  brown 
hair,  unseen  for  fifty  years,  became  to  the  dear 
old  man  his  Beatrice,  a  transfigured  being,  the 
image  of  all  that  might  have  been,  the  type  of 
joys  unknown,  the  pure  guide  of  his  spirit,  the 
memory  of  a  meeting  with  whom  at  Marblehead, 
by  "the  gray  fort's  broken  wall,"  was  woven 
into  what  is  to  me  his  most  musical  and  most 
lovely  poem :  — 

"  Thou  art  not  here,  thou  art  not  there, 

Thy  place  I  cannot  see ; 
I  only  know  that  where  thou  art 
The  blessed  angels  be, 
And  heaven  is  glad  for  thee. 

"  Forgive  me  if  the  evil  years 

Have  left  on  me  their  sign ; 
Wash  out,  O  soul  so  beautiful, 


270       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

The  many  stains  of  mine 
In  tears  of  love  divine  ! 

"  I  could  not  look  on  thee  and  live, 

If  thou  wert  by  my  side ; 
The  vision  of  a  shining  one, 
The  white  and  heavenly  bride, 
Is  well  to  me  denied. 

"  But  turn  to  me  thy  dear  girl-face 

Without  the  angel's  crown, 
The  wedded  roses  of  thy  lips, 
Thy  loose  hair  rippling  down 
In  waves  of  golden  brown. 

"  Look  forth  once  more  through  space  and  time, 

And  let  thy  sweet  shade  fall 
In  tenderest  grace  of  soul  and  form 
On  memory's  frescoed  wall, 
A  shadow,  and  yet  all ! 

"  Draw  near,  more  near,  forever  dear ! 

Where'er  I  rest  or  roam, 
Or  in  the  city's  crowded  streets, 
Or  by  the  blown  sea  foam, 
The  thought  of  thee  is  home  !  " 

These  verses  of  reminiscence,  beautiful  as 
they  are,  are  less  widely  known,  and  rightly  so, 
than  "  Snow-Bound,"  written  when,  his  mother 
and  sister  dead,  the  memory  mood  was  strongest 
in  him,  and  generally  judged  to  be  his  most  char 
acteristic  poem.  It  is  so  familiar  to  young  and 
old'  that  it  would  be  superfluous  to  describe  it 
or  to  analyze  it  in  detail,  but  it  is  not  improper 


POET  271 

to  dwell  for  a  moment  on  three  points  concern 
ing  it. 

First,  it  is  marvellous  to  notice  how  the  most 
special  and  personal  facts  of  Whittier's  individ 
ual  experience,  thus  accurately  stated,  become 
typical  of  the  experiences  of  all  his  New  Eng 
land  fellows.  Whittier  was,  from  one  point  of 
view,  a  highly  specialized  local  product.  Like 
Lucy  Larcom  he  might  have  wondered :  kt  If  I 
had  opened  my  eyes  upon  this  planet  elsewhere 
than  in  this  northeastern  corner  of  Massachu 
setts,  elsewhere  than  on  this  green,  rocky  strip 
of  shore  between  Beverly  Bridge  and  the  Misery 
Islands,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  must  have  been 
somebody  else,  and  not  myself.  These  gray 
ledges  hold  me  by  the  roots,  as  they  do  the  bay- 
berry  bushes,  the  sweet-fern,  and  the  rock-saxi 
frage."  * 

He,  this  old  man  who  had  been  an  East 
Haverhill  boy,  describes  his  homestead,  his 
well-sweep,  his  brook,  his  family  circle,  his 
schoolmaster,  apparently  intent  on  naught  but 
the  complete  accuracy  of  his  narrative,  and  lo ! 
such  is  his  art  that  he  has  drawn  the  one  per 
fect,  imperishable  picture  of  that  bright  old  win 
ter  life  in  that  strange  clime.  Diaries,  journals, 
histories,  biographies,  and  autobiographies,  with 
the  same  aim  in  view,  are  not  all  together  so 

1  A  New  England  Girlhood. 


272        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

typical  as  this  unique  poem  of  less  than  a 
thousand  lines. 

Second,  this  generalizing  power  of  the  poem 
is  perhaps  largely  due  to  the  emphasis  which 
Whittier  throws  upon  the  human  side  of  the 
picture.  Nature  meant  comparatively  little  to 
him,  as  to  most  New  Englanders.  The  snow 
occupies  him  for  a  moment,  but  what  really 
echoes  in  his  memory  is  not  the  outward  acci 
dent  of  the  season,  but  the  picturesque  and 
typical  concentration  and  isolation  of  the  family 
life  of  which  it  was  the  cause.  The  weather  and 
the  landscape  are  adequately  treated,  though 
without  emphasis.  There  is  no  pretty  descrip 
tion  of  the  winter  brook,  as  in  Lowell  —  it  is 
simply  silent.  The  light  converges  in  turn  on 
each  figure  in  the  family  group,  on  his  special 
traits.  Nature  is  subordinated,  even  at  nature's 
height  of  power,  to  human  character. 

Third,  it  was  an  old  man,  tender-hearted,  who 
thus  drew  the  portraits  of  the  circle  of  which  he 
and  his  brother  alone  survived.  The  mood  was 
one  of  wistful  and  reverential  piety  —  the 
thoughtful  farmer's  mood,  in  many  a  land,  under 
many  a  religion,  recalling  the  ancient  scenes 
more  clearly  as  his  memory  for  recent  things 
grows  less  secure,  living  with  fond  regret  the 
departed  days,  yearning  for  friends  long  van 
ished.  Our  changed  national  life,  the  passing 


POET  273 

away  of  the  old  agricultural  conditions,  the 
breaking  up  of  ancient  traditions,  has  made  this 
wistful  and  reverential  mood  a  constant  element 
in  our  recent  literature.  In  poems  and  novels 
we  have  delighted  to  reconstruct  the  past,  as  the 
Arab  singers  before  Mohammed  began  their  lays 
with  the  contemplation  of  a  deserted  camping- 
ground.  It  was  Whittier  that  introduced  the 
new  theme,  best  described  in  the  closing  lines  of 
his  own  poem :  — 

"  Yet,  haply,  in  some  lull  of  life, 
Some  Truce  of  God  which  breaks  its  strife, 
The  worldling's  eyes  shall  gather  dew, 

Dreaming  in  throngful  city  ways 
Of  winter  joys  his  boyhood  knew ; 
And  dear  and  early  friends  —  the  few 
Who  yet  remain  —  shall  pause  to  view 

These  Flemish  pictures  of  old  days ; 
Sit  with  me  by  the  homestead  hearth, 
And  stretch  the  hands  of  memory  forth 

To  warm  them  at  the  wood-fire's  blaze ! 
And  thanks  untraced  to  lips  unknown 
Shall  greet  me  like  the  odors  blown 
From  unseen  meadows  newly  mown, 
Or  lilies  floating  in  some  pond, 
Wood-fringed,  the  wayside  gaze  beyond ; 
The  traveller  owns  the  grateful  sense 
Of  sweetness  near,  he  knows  not  whence, 
And,  pausing,  takes  with  forehead  bare 
The  benediction  of  the  air." 

In  his  old  age  Whittier's  heart  turned  also 
with  increasing  frequency  to  religious  themes, 
and  we  must,  last  of  all,  discuss  his  religious 


274        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

verse.  It  must  be  remembered  that  in  his  youth 
he  had  been  justly  called  "the  gay  young 
Quaker."  He  was  handsome,  ambitious,  fond 
of  women,  with  his  heart  set  on  political  or  lit 
erary  fame.  It  was  only  as  he  neared  middle 
life  and  had  given  himself  over  unselfishly  to 
a  humanitarian  cause,  that  his  letters  and  his 
poems  began  to  show  a  spirit  of  religious  devo 
tion,  which  grew  deeper  and  stronger  with  his 
advancing  years.  His  religious  feeling  was  not, 
however,  one  of  creed  or  convention,  but  was  in 
this  respect  typical  of  a  strong  minority,  exist 
ing  certainly  from  early  times  in  his  district 
and  probably  in  all  New  England.  Amesbury 
had  from  its  foundation  been  deeply  tinged  with 
anti-Puritanical  feeling.  Indeed,  beguiled  by  the 
prominence  of  the  local  priesthood  in  affairs  and 
in  literature,  we  often  misread  the  history  of 
New  England  thought.  We  may  suspect  that 
from  the  very  beginning  there  was  a  consider 
able  remnant  who  had  little  sympathy  with  the 
mechanical  creeds  and  political  bigotry  of  the 
reigning  church.  From  such  a  remnant,  long 
without  its  share  in  literature,  sprang  Benja 
min  Franklin,  and  we  may  imagine  a  continu 
ity  of  this  quietly  rebellious  remnant  —  clear 
headed,  righteous,  unsuperstitious,  but  genuinely 
religious  —  through  all  New  England  history, 
standing  calmly  outside  the  church  or  remaining 


POET  275 

unsympathetic  with  its  doctrine,  and  forming 
later  the  material  on  which  Unitarianism  and 
Universalism  drew  so  largely.  Puritanism  sat 
in  the  seat  of  power  and  prominence,  but  it 
never  was  completely  victorious.  From  a  thou 
sand  hints  we  may  guess  the  permanence  of  a 
brave  doubt  of  that  fierce  doctrine,  combined 
with  a  genuine  but  creedless  piety.  Many  a 
grizzled  Essex  County  farmer  in  Whittier's  time 
had  pondered  long  over  the  sacred  books  of 
other  religions,  had  read  the  Bible  with  critical 
care,  and  was  ready  to  do  battle  even  with  the 
parson  himself  on  the  main  doctrines  of  the 
church,  while  each  respected  the  honor  and 
purity  of  the  other's  life  and  deeds.  In  New 
England,  as  everywhere  among  intelligent  peo 
ple,  the  current  state  religion  was  merely  the 
routine  form  of  piety,  and  Whittier  the  Quaker, 
whose  religious  opinions  were  independent  of 
books  and  logic,  was  no  less  typical  than  Cotton 
Mather  or  Jonathan  Edwards. 

We  thus  find  Whittier's  attitude  toward  the 
various  religious  movements  of  his  time  typical 
not  merely  of  his  own  Society  but  of  a  strong 
New  England  minority.  He  could  not  bring 
himself  to  conceive  of  heaven  in  the  old  mediae 
val  fashion,  "  Dante's  picture  of  Heaven,  —  an 
old  man  sitting  eternally  on  a  high  chair,  and 
concentric  circles  of  saints,  martyrs,  and  ordinary 


276        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

church  members  whirling  around  him  in  perpet 
ual  gyration,  and  singing 4  Glory ' !  " l  He  agreed 
with  "  the  thoughtful  and  earnest  seekers  after 
truth  in  other  denominations,  who  find  it  impos 
sible  to  accept  much  which  seems  to  them  irrev 
erent  and  dishonoring  to  God  in  creeds  founded 
on  an  arbitrary  arrangement  of  isolated  and 
often  irrelevant  texts  —  the  letter  that  killeth, 
without  the  Spirit,  which  alone  gives  life.  It 
is  scarcely  possible  to  overestimate  the  evils  of 
doubt,  anguish,  despair,  and  infidelity  resulting 
from  doctrines  which  attribute  to  the  Heavenly 
Father  schemes  and  designs  utterly  at  variance 
with  the  moral  sense  of  his  creatures,  and  which 
in  them  would  be  regarded  as  unspeakably  un- 
\  just  and  cruel."  2  With  Joseph  Cook  and  Mr. 
Moody,  the  popular  expounders  of  the  old  faith 
in  his  day,  he  had  little  sympathy :  — 

"  I  have  not  read  Joseph  Cook's  letters  care 
fully,  but  a  hasty  perusal  of  two  of  them  gave 
me  the  impression  of  a  good  deal  of  ability  and 
smartness  on  the  part  of  the  author.  After 
all,  there  is  no  great  use  in  arguing  the  ques 
tion  of  immortality.  One  must  feel  its  truth. 
You  cannot  climb  into  heaven  on  a  syllogism. 
Moody  and  Sankey  are  busy  in  Boston.  The 
papers  give  the  discourses  of  Mr.  Moody,  which 

1  Pickard,  Life,  ii.  668. 

2  Pickard,  Life,  ii.  723. 


POET  277 

seem  rather  commonplace  and  poor,  but  the  man 
is  in  earnest,  and  believes  in  all  the  literalness 
of  the  Bible  and  of  John  Calvin.  I  hope  he  will 
do  good,  and  believe  that  he  will  reach  and 
move  some  who  could  not  be  touched  by  James 
Freeman  Clarke  or  Phillips  Brooks.  I  cannot 
accept  his  theology,  or  part  of  it  at  least,  and  his 
methods  are  not  to  my  taste.  But  if  he  can 
make  the  drunkard,  the  gambler,  and  the  de 
bauchee  into  decent  men,  and  make  the  lot  of 
their  weariful  wives  and  children  less  bitter,  I 
bid  him  God-speed."  l 

He  even  shrank  from  the  Episcopal  Church, 
which  was  beginning  so  deftly  to  dissolve  the  old 
Unitarian  and  Congregationalist  influences  in 
Eastern  Massachusetts.  He  wrote  to  Lucy 
Larcom  :  "  I  do  not  wonder  that  '  the  Church  ' 
commends  itself  to  thy  mind  and  heart,  so  far 
as  it  is  represented  by  Phillips  Brooks.  But  I 
am  too  much  of  a  Quaker  to  find  a  home  there. 
Quakerism  has  no  church  of  its  own  —  it  belongs 
to  the  Church  Universal  and  Invisible."  2 

It  was  against  the  intrusion  of  reason  into 
religion,  against  a  blind  trust  in  the  words  of  a 
book,  that  Whittier  rebelled.  His  was  the  Old 
Quakerism.  "  That  central  doctrine  of  ours,"  he 
wrote  to  Professor  Gummere  of  Haverford, — 
"  the  Divine  Immanence  and  Universal  Light, 
1  Pickard,  Life,  ii.  628.  2  Ibid.  ii.  747. 


278        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

—  will  yet  be  found  the  stronghold  of  Chris 
tendom,  the  sure,  safe  place  from  superstition  on 
the  one  hand  and  scientific  doubt  on  the  other." 
"  We  can  do  without  Bible  or  church,"  he  wrote 
to  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps ;  "  we  cannot  do  with 
out  God,  and  of  Him  we  are  sure.  All  that 
science  and  criticism  can  urge  cannot  shake  the 
self-evident  truth  that  He  asks  me  to  be  true, 
just,  merciful,  and  loving,  and  because  He  asks 
me  to  be  so,  I  know  that  He  is  himself  what  He 
requires  of  me."  1  It  was  this  rigidly  simple 
belief,  which  scarcely  went  beyond  the  state 
ments  thus  quoted,  that  made  him  so  typical  of 
all  men  of  deep  feeling,  and  that  has  placed  so 
many  of  his  poems  in  the  hymnals  of  several 
Christian  sects.  His  doctrine  was  one  on  which 
all  could  unite. 

But  the  inner  promptings  of  the  Spirit  — 
independent  of  book  or  reason  —  must  seem  but 
a  frail  support  when  age  presses  and  friends 
vanish  and  the  heart  cries  out  for  a  witness  to 
the  hope  of  a  hereafter.  Here  and  there  in 
Whittier's  poems  we  find  a  trace  of  the  paralyz 
ing  fear  that  the  inner  sense  that  tells  us  of 
immortality  may  be  but  a  false  gleam  of  light, 
and  this  is  particularly  true  in  his  letters :  — 

"  As  the  years  pass  and  one  slides  so  rapidly 
down  the  afternoon  slope  of  life,  until  the  dark 

1  Pickard,  Life,  ii.  567. 


POET  279 

and  chill  of  the  evening  shadows  rest  upon  him, 
he  longs  for  the  hands  and  voices  of  those  who, 
in  the  morning,  went  up  on  the  other  side  with 
him.  The  awful  mysteries  of  life  and  nature 
sometimes  almost  overwhelm  me.  '  What,  Where, 
Whither  ?  '  These  questions  sometimes  hold  me 
breathless.  How  little,  after  all,  do  we  know ! 
And  the  soul's  anchor  of  Faith  can  only  grap 
ple  fast  upon  two  or  three  things,  and  first  and 
surest  of  all  upon  the  Fatherhood  of  God."  l 

It  was  under  the  spur  of  such  dread  that  his 
thoughts  turned  often  to  spiritualism,  a  belief 
towards  which  he  had  a  plain  leaning.  His  acute- 
ness  of  judgment  made  him  suspect  fraud  in 
many  alleged  manifestations,  but  he  followed 
carefully  the  work  of  the  English  Society  for 
Psychical  Research,  whose  "  investigations  are 
conducted  strictly  on  scientific  principles  ;  "  he 
hoped  but  scarcely  expected  that  "some  clue 
may  be  found  to  the  great  mystery  of  life  and 
death  —  and  the  beyond ;  "  2  and  he  craved  him 
self  for  some  sign  :  — 

" 4 1  have  had  as  good  a  chance  to  see  a 
ghost,'  he  once  said,  '  as  anybody  ever  had,  but 
not  the  slightest  sign  ever  came  to  me.  I  do 
not  doubt  what  others  tell  me,  but  I  some 
times  wonder  over  my  own  incapacity.  I  should 
like  to  see  some  dear  ghost  walk  in  and  sit 

1  Pickard,  Life,  ii.  625.  2  Ibid.  ii.  720. 


280       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

down  by  me  when  I  am  here  alone.  The  doings 
of  the  old  witch  days  have  never  been  explained, 
and  as  we  are  so  soon  to  be  transferred  to  an 
other  state,  how  natural  it  appears  that  some  of 
us  should  have  glimpses  of  it  here !  We  all  feel 
the  help  we  receive  from  the  Divine  Spirit.  Why 
deny,  then,  that  some  men  have  it  more  directly 
and  more  visibly  than  others  ?  ' 

Not  reason,  nor  research,  nor  faith  could  alto 
gether  quiet  in  him  the  flickering  human  doubt. 
Where,  whither,  what,  how  ?  are  the  questions 
that  repeat  themselves  in  his  letters,  only  to  be 
answered  by  the  firm  answers  of  faith.  And  it 
is  this  subordination  of  doubt,  rather  than  its 
annihilation,  this  childlike  and  manlike  trust, 
that  has  made  his  religious  poetry  so  deeply  and 
widely  beloved. 

The  years  of  this  last  period  of  Whittier's  life 
were  eventless.  He  was  still  an  invalid.  Head 
aches  oppressed  him  after  any  prolonged  men 
tal  effort,  and  he  was  harassed  by  sleeplessness, 
and  now  and  then  prostrated  by  severe  illnesses. 
The  bitter  northern  winters  had  always  troubled 
him,  and  as  his  strength  failed  slowly  he  shrank 
from  the  excessive  summer  heat.  But  he  habit 
uated  himself  to  the  discomforts  of  age  and 
weakness,  managed  wisely  the  strength  he  had, 
and  lived,  all  in  all,  a  placid  and  happy  life, 

1  Mrs.  Fields,  Whittier,  35. 


POET  281 

interested  in  local  and  national  affairs,  reading 
widely  in  works  of  travel,  history,  and  pure  lit 
erature,  and  happy  in  the  society  of  his  friends 
and  in  the  necessary  routine  of  life. 

Between  Whittier  and  his  younger  sister, 
Elizabeth,  there  existed  the  strongest  bonds  of 
affection,  heightened  by  a  somewhat  close  simi 
larity  in  their  tastes  and  temperaments.  Lucy 
Larcom,  who  knew  both  well,  thus  sensitively  de 
scribes,  in  her  journal,  their  life  together :  — 

"At  Amesbury,  —  with  two  of  the  dearest 
friends  my  life  is  blessed  with,  —  dear  quiet 
Lizzie,  and  her  poet  brother.  I  love  to  sit  with 
them  in  the  still  Quaker  worship,  and  they  love 
the  free  air  and  all  the  beautiful  things  as  much 
as  they  do  all  the  good  and  spiritual.  The  hare 
bells  nodding  in  shade  and  shine  on  the  steep 
banks  of  the  Merrimac,  the  sparkle  of  the  waters, 
the  blue  of  the  sky,  the  balm  of  the  air,  and  the 
atmosphere  of  grave  sweet  friendliness  which  I 
breathed  for  one  calm  '  First  Day '  are  never  to 
be  forgotten.  .  .  . 

"But  theirs  is  a  home  in  each  other's  love, 
which  makes  earth  a  place  to  cling  to  for  its 
beauty  yet.  If  I  could  not  think  of  them  to 
gether  there,  of  the  quiet  light  which  bathes 
everything  within  and  around  their  cottage  under 
the  shadow  of  the  hill,  of  the  care  repaid  by 
gentle  trust,  and  the  dependence  so  blessed  in 


282       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

its  shelter  of  tenderness  and  strength,  the  world 
would  seem  to  me  a  much  drearier  place ;  for  I 
have  never  seen  anything  like  this  brother's  and 
sister's  love,  and  the  home  atmosphere  it  creates, 
the  trust  in  human  goodness  and  the  Divine  Love 
it  diffuses  into  all  who  enter  the  charmed  circle." 1 
After  the  death  of  his  sister  in  1864,  he  still 
occupied  the  pretty  little  house  in  Amesbury, 
which  was  kept  for  him  by  his  niece,  Elizabeth 
Whittier.  When,  in  1876,  she  married  Mr. 
Samuel  T.  Pickard,  he  became  for  a  great  part 
of  the  years  that  remained  to  him  the  guest  of 
his  cousins,  the  Misses  Johnson,  at  Oak  Knoll, 
a  beautiful  estate  at  Danvers,  which  they  had 
recently  purchased ;  but  the  Amesbury  house 
was  usually  kept  open  for  him,  so  that  he  might 
return  for  shorter  or  longer  intervals.  His  in 
come  from  royalties  on  his  books  had  now  for 
some  years  largely  exceeded  his  needs,  and 
though  he  gave  much  in  charity,  he  was  not 
obliged  to  write  more  than  he  chose  nor  to  take 
anxious  thought  about  his  worldly  affairs.  From 
time  to  time  he  came  to  Boston  for  short  peri 
ods,  either  going  to  the  house  of  an  intimate 
friend  or  to  a  quiet  hotel.  His  summers  he 
spent  at  Amesbury,  at  Danvers,  at  the  Isles  of 
Shoals  with  Celia  Thaxter,  or  in  company  with 
relatives  in  pleasant  New  Hampshire  inns  on 
1 D.  D.  Addison,  Lucy  Larcom  (1894),  98,  135. 


POET  283 

Lake  Winnepesankee  or  near  Chocorua.  We 
may  fancy  his  old  age,  then,  as  happy  in  all 
these  environments.  At  Amesbury  he  had  lived 
the  old  life  of  the  citizen  and  neighbor,  well 
known  and  none  the  less  loved,  a  prophet  hon 
ored  in  his  own  country.  He  mingled  freely 
with  old  friends,  whom  he  often  met  in  the  shop 
of  a  village  tailor,  himself  a  man  of  much  acute- 
ness  and  breadth  of  mind ;  he  kept  in  touch 
with  local  affairs  ;  he  helped  many  by  counsel 
and  by  gifts  —  it  was  the  old  country  life.  At 
Danvers  he  was,  though  so  near,  yet  remote.  The 
high-backed  hills  shut  out  the  Merrimac  valley. 
He  was  not  familiarly  known  to  the  rural  folk, 
though  many  a  lad  such  as  I,  hunting  for  birds' 
nests  in  the  woods  thereabouts,  or  tramping  up 
and  down  that  Roman-straight  Newburyport  turn 
pike,  knew  that  somewhere  near  lived  the  gray 
old  country  poet.  Cut  off  from  the  old  village 
life,  with  its  neighbor  intimacies,  its  jostle  of 
interests,  its  smack  of  the  farm  and  store  and 
factory,  he  had  here  the  seclusion  of  a  beautiful 
estate,  with  its  ways  of  comfort  and  distinction ; 
the  pleasures  of  the  farm  without  its  toil ; 
orchards,  fine  trees,  and  lawns ;  companionship 
in  life  of  a  more  stately  fashion.  In  Boston,  on 
his  occasional  visits,  he  was  made  as  much  of  as 
he  would,  and  could  feel  himself  the  man  of 
national  reputation,  whoin  people  of  wealth  and 


284       JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

high  social  standing  were  glad  to  have  in  their 
houses.  In  New  Hampshire,  he  enjoyed  the  phy 
sical  stimulus  and  mental  relaxation  which  came 
from  noble  scenery,  the  fresh  air  of  the  lake  and 
the  mountains,  the  restful  companionship  of  rela 
tives  and  friends,  —  summer  pleasures  new  to 
one  who  had  long  spent  all  the  year  round,  alter 
nately  chilled  or  baked,  in  the  same  little  house 
in  a  bustling  lowland  village.  From  all  these 
sources  came  the  content  of  satisfied  old  age 
after  a  middle  life  of  heart-breaking  endeavor, 
scanty  means,  and  narrow  opportunities. 

Whittier's  life,  however,  was  at  best  a  lonely 
one.  An  invalid  and  a  bachelor,  he  was,  too, 
almost  entirely  deprived  of  intimate  friendship 
with  men.  His  fiery  devotion  to  humanitarian 
aims  had  brought  him  into  close  and  cordial  re 
lations  with  certain  men  whom  he  loved,  as  with 
Sumner,  but  such  friendships  were  maintained 
mostly  by  correspondence  and  lacked  in  a  mea 
sure  the  warmth  and  completeness  which  he  must 
have  craved.  At  Amesbury  he  had  frequent 
companionship  with  certain  of  his  neighbors, 
and  such  relations  were  again  eminently  char 
acteristic  and  satisfactory,  though  mainly  due 
to  the  accidents  of  contiguity.  But  he  was  a 
thoroughly  reticent  man,  in  essence  ascetic  and 
restrained,  and  whether  by  force  of  circum 
stances  or  by  preference,  there  was  throughout 


POET  285 

his  life  apparently  no  one  man  or  group  of  men 
with  whom  he  was  long  on  terms  of  complete 
intimacy,  or  to  whom  he  was  accustomed  to  open 
his  heart.  Sumner  he  loved  and  Bayard  Taylor, 
though  he  saw  either  but  rarely,  and  he  admired 
Whipple  greatly.  With  Longfellow  he  had 
only  an  acquaintanceship,  and  between  him  and 
Holmes,  who  in  later  years  wrote  to  him  and  of 
him  so  warmly,  there  was  little  in  common  ex 
cept  their  old  age  and  their  poetic  fame.  Haw 
thorne  he  knew  scarcely  at  all,  and  he  sometimes 
spoke  with  quaint  humor  of  his  sensations  in 
calling  on  him  once  when  Hawthorne's  preoccu 
pied  and  solemn  air  made  him  look  to  Whittier 
"  as  if  he  had  just  come  up  from  down  cellar." 
With  Emerson  he  was  on  better,  though  not  at 
all  intimate,  terms,  and  he  was  accustomed  to 
relate  several  characteristic  anecdotes  of  him. 
In  one  Emerson  remarked  that  a  devout  Cal- 
vinist  prayed  for  him  daily,  adding  that  he 
himself  offered  a  prayer  for  himself  each  day. 
"  Does  thee  ?  "  said  Whittier.  "  What  does  thee 
pray  for,  friend  Emerson?"  "  Well,"  replied 
Mr.  Emerson,  "  when  I  first  open  my  eyes  upon 
the  morning  meadows,  and  look  out  upon  the 
beautiful  world,  I  thank  God  that  I  am  alive, 
and  that  I  live  so  near  Boston."  1  But  such  an 
incident,  though  amusing,  shows  the  lack  of 
1  Mrs.  Claflin,  Persona/  Recollections  of  John  G.  Whittier,  26. 


286        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

real  depth  and  community  of  interest  between 
them. 

Foreign  visitors  often  came  to  see  Whittier. 
He  liked  Dickens  well  and  recognized  Matthew 
Arnold's  virtues ;  for  Charles  Kingsley  he  had 
a  hearty  affection.  With  the  brilliant  Southern 
poet,  Paul  Hamilton  Hayne,  who  visited  him  at 
Oak  Knoll,  he  long  kept  up  a  friendly  corre 
spondence,  indicative  on  both  sides  of  a  breadth 
of  mind  and  heartiness  of  feeling  that  augured 
well  for  the  rapid  reconciliation  of  the  North 
and  the  South.  But  his  most  familiar  acquaint 
ances  were  almost  invariably  women ;  and  this 
was  natural.  Ascetic  in  life,  not  touching  wine 
or  tobacco,  unused  to  sport,  frail  of  health,  iso 
lated  in  residence,  without  employment  that 
brought  him  into  regular  contact  with  his  fel 
lows,  reticent  and  shy,  there  was  no  line  of 
communication  open  between  his  life  and  that 
of  men  of  robust  and  active  habits,  whose  peer 
he  really  was.  Women  understood  better  his 
prim  and  gentle  ways,  his  physical  delicacy,  his 
saintly  devotion  to  spiritual  ideals.  His  most 
frequent  correspondents  were  women,  —  Lucy 
Larcom,  Alice  and  Phoebe  Gary,  Celia  Thaxter, 
Gail  Hamilton,  Mrs.  Stowe,  Elizabeth  Stuart 
Phelps,  Edith  Thomas,  Sarah  Orrie  Jewett, 
Edna  Deane  Proctor,  Mrs.  Fields,  Mrs.  Claflin, 
—  and  his  letters  to  them  show  sincere  friendship 


POET  287 

and  community  of  spirit.  In  old  age  his  was  the 
point  of  view,  the  theory  of  life,  of  the  woman 
of  gentle  tastes,  literary  interests,  and  religious 
feeling.  The  best  accounts  of  his  later  life  are 
those  of  Mrs.  Claflin  and  Mrs.  Fields,  in  whose 
houses  he  was  often  a  guest;  and  they  have  much 
to  say  of  his  sincere  friendliness  and  quiet  talk, 
his  shy  avoidance  of  notoriety  or  even  of  a  large 
group  of  people,  his  keen  sense  of  humor,  his 
tales  of  his  youth,  his  quaintly  serious  comments 
on  life,  his  sudden  comings  and  goings,  as  incli 
nation  moved,  and  of  the  rare  occasions  when, 
deeply  moved,  he  spoke  of  the  great  issues  of 
religion  with  beautiful  earnestness  and  simple 
faith.  And  it  is  pleasant  to  think  of  this  farm 
er's  lad,  who  had  lived  for  forty  years  in  all  but 
poverty  for  the  love  of  God  and  his  fellows, 
taking  an  innocent  delight  in  the  luxury  of 
great  houses  and  in  the  sheltered  life  of  those 
protected  from  hardship  and  privation.  After 
his  long  warfare  this  was  a  just  reward. 

Thus  the  years  passed,  bringing  him  peace 
and  pleasant  associations,  and  love  and  honor 
from  the  people.  His  birthdays  were  celebrated 
with  increasing  respect  as  his  age  advanced.  'In 
1877,  the  seventieth  anniversary,  the  "  Literary 
World  "  of  Boston  devoted  an  entire  issue  to 
tributes  to  him  in  prose  and  verse  from  men 
and  women  of  letters,  and  he  was  the  guest  of 


288        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

honor  at  a  dinner  given  by  the  publishers  of  the 
"  Atlantic  Monthly  "  to  its  distinguished  con 
tributors.  In  1887  the  commonwealth  itself 
paid  him  the  honor  due  for  his  eminence  not 
only  in  literature  but  in  politics,  the  governor 
and  other  distinguished  citizens  coming  to  Oak 
Knoll  to  present  their  congratulations.  The 
succeeding  anniversaries  were  observed  in  schools 
throughout  a  large  part  of  the  United  States. 
He  had  lived  to  be  one  of  the  last  representa 
tives  of  the  abolitionist  cause  and  of  the  old 
group  of  New  England  poets,  and  he  stood  to 
the  whole  nation  for  antique  virtue,  for  a  race 
of  men  now  passed  away. 

In  the  winter  of  1892  he  barely  rallied  from 
the  terrible  "  grippe,"  less  a  cold  than  a  pesti 
lent  scourge  of  humanity ;  but  in  the  following 
spring  and  summer  he  recovered  somewhat  his 
strength,  and  proposed  spending  a  little  time  at 
the  house  of  an  old  friend  at  Hampton  Falls, 
N.  H.  Here,  under  the  colonial  elms  or  on  the 
balcony  on  which  his  room  opened,  he  rested, 
looking  out  over  the  meadows,  watching  the  dis 
tant  ships,  reading,  dreaming  of  old  days,  and, 
free  from  the  intrusion  of  strangers,  holding 
pleasant  conversations  with  dear  friends.  But 
his  strength  was  frail  and  a  slight  illness  pros 
trated  him  ;  and  death  —  peaceful  and  compar 
atively  painless  —  soon  followed.  Almost  his 


POET  289 

last  words  were  "  Love  —  love  to  all  the  world." 
His  funeral  services  were  held  in  the  little  gar 
den  in  Amesbury  on  which  his  study  opened, 
and  he  was  buried  in  the  village  cemetery  on 
the  hill  that  overlooks  the  valley  he  loved. 
Around  him  are  the  graves  of  his  family,  for  he 
was  the  last  survivor  of  the  circle  that  gathered 
about  the  hearth  in  the  snow-bound  homestead. 
And,  such  was  his  art,  there  is  no  other  fam 
ily  in  the  world  whose  members  are  so  widely 
known  among  the  peoples  who  speak  the  English 
tongue. 

In  person  Whittier  was  tall,  slender,  dark  of 
complexion,  and  of  active  habit.  At  the  age 
of  twenty-seven  "  he  wore  a  dark  frock-coat,  with 
standing  collar,  which,  with  his  thin  hair,  dark 
and  sometimes  flashing  eyes,  and  black  whiskers, 
not  large,  but  noticeable  in  those  unhirsute  days, 
gave  him,  to  my  then  unpractised  eye,  quite  as 
much  of  a  military  as  a  Quaker  aspect.  His 
broad  square  forehead  and  well-cut  features, 
aided  by  his  incipient  reputation  as  a  poet,  made 
him  quite  a  noticeable  feature  of  the  conven 
tion."  l  Mr.  Higginson's  memory  of  him  at 
thirty-five  presents  the  same  characteristics  more 
vividly :  "  I  saw  before  me  a  man  of  striking  per 
sonal  appearance ;  tall,  slender,  with  olive  com- 

1  J.  Miller  McKim,  quoted  in  Pickard,  Life,  i.  135. 


290        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

plexion,  black  hair,  straight,  black  eyebrows, 
brilliant  eyes,  and  an  Oriental,  Semitic  cast  of 
countenance." 1  And  Mr.  Robert  S.  Rantoul 
speaks  of  him  as  having  "  the  reticence  and 
presence  of  an  Arab  chief,  with  the  eye  of  an 
eagle."  2  In  later  life  he  was  at  first  sight  a  less 
impressive  figure,  with  a  touch  of  rusticity,  and 
the  dress  and  bearing  of  an  older  time,  but  al 
ways  dignified  and  alert.  Mr.  Gosse,  who  visited 
him  in  1884,  describes  accurately  his  appearance 
in  old  age  :  — 

"  Mr.  Whittier  himself  appeared,  with  all  that 
report  had  ever  told  of  gentle  sweetness  and  dig 
nified  cordial  courtesy.  He  was  then  seventy- 
seven  years  old,  and,  although  he  spoke  of  age 
and  feebleness,  he  showed  few  signs  of  either ; 
he  was,  in  fact,  to  live  eight  years  more.  .  .  . 
The  peculiarity  of  his  face  rested  in  the  extraor 
dinary  large  and  luminous  black  eyes,  set  in 
black  eyebrows,  and  fringed  with  thick  black 
eyelashes  curiously  curved  inwards.  This  bar  of 
vivid  black  across  the  countenance  was  startlingly 
contrasted  with  the  bushy  snow-white  beard  and 
hair,  offering  a  sort  of  contradiction  which 
was  surprising  and  presently  pleasing.  .  .  .  He 
struck  me  as  very  gay  and  cheerful,  in  spite  of 

1  T.  W.  Higginson,  Wittier  (1902),  94. 

2  Historical  Collections  of  the  Essex  Institute,  xxxvii  (1901), 
135. 


POET  291 

his  occasional  references  to  the  passage  of  time 
and  the  vanishing  of  beloved  faces.  He  even 
laughed,  frequently  and  with  a  childlike  sudden 
ness,  but  without  a  sound.  His  face  had  none 
of  the  immobility  so  frequent  with  very  aged 
persons ;  on  the  contrary,  waves  of  mood  were 
always  sparkling  across  his  features,  and  leaving 
nothing  stationary  there  except  the  narrow,  high, 
and  strangely  receding  forehead.  His  language, 
very  fluid  and  easy,  had  an  agreeable  touch  of 
the  soil,  an  occasional  rustic  note  in  its  elegant 
colloquialism,  that  seemed  very  pleasant  and 
appropriate,  as  if  it  linked  him  naturally  with 
the  long  line  of  sturdy  ancestors  of  whom  he  was 
the  final  blossoming.  In  connection  with  his 
poetry,  I  think  it  would  be  difficult  to  form  in 
the  imagination  a  figure  more  appropriate  to 
Whittier's  writings  than  Whittier  himself  proved 
to  be  in  the  flesh."  l 

In  the  criticism  of  Whittier's  work  there  re 
mains  little  to  be  said,  even  by  way  of  summary. 
His  prose  pieces,  perhaps,  deserve  more  credit 
than  is  usually  given  them,  but  they  do  not  show 
genius.  His  verse  deals,  first,  with  reform ; 
second,  with  New  England  life,  both  historically 
and  in  reminiscence ;  third,  with  faith  in  God 
and  immortality.  The  reforms  he  advocated 

1  "  A  Visit  to  Wbittier,"  The  Bookman,  viii.  459. 


292        JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

were  temporary,  and  his  verses  of  this  sort  will 
doubtless  be  obscured  by  time.  Many  have  al 
ready  lost  their  interest.  But  their  vehemence 
and  elevation  of  spirit  would  long  preserve  a 
few,  even  were  they  not  closely  associated  with 
the  most  critical  period  of  our  national  history. 
His  historical  ballads  are  almost  supreme  in 
their  class,  and  his  poems  memorial  of  the  old 
farm  life  are  unique  ;  both  must  live  long  by 
the  sheer  potency  of  their  matter  and  by  the 
virtue  of  their  simple  but  delicate  art.  His  re 
ligious  verse,  of  less  striking  merit,  is  less  sure 
of  comparative  permanency,  but  has  clearly 
many  chances  of  survival,  due  to  the  author's 
simple-minded  faith  in  an  age  preeminently  of 
intellectual  doubt. 

Adverse  criticism  of  Whittier's  verse  is  mainly 
confined  to  three  points,  —  its  unequal  value,  its 
tendency  to  moralize,  and  its  loose  rhymes.  All 
three  points  are  well  taken.  Inequality  in  poetic 
work,  however,  does  not  deeply  concern  the  con 
temporary  reading  public  or  that  of  posterity. 
We  have  only  to  put  aside  the  trivial  and  to  re 
tain  the  worthy,  thankful  for  whatever  remains 
after  the  sifting.  A  moralizing  poet,  to  touch 
on  the  second  point  for  an  instant,  Whittier  cer 
tainly  was,  nor  can  we  imagine  him  as  anything 
widely  different.  The  reforming  element  be 
longed  to  the  essence  of  his  nature ;  and  he  was 


POET  293 

in  this  respect  profoundly  typical  of  New  Eng 
land.  We  must  frankly  accept  him  as  he  was. 
Whitman,  whose  point  of  view  was  so  opposite, 
judged  him  wisely.  "  Whittier's  poetry,"  he 
said  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Kennedy,  "stands  for 
morality  ...  as  filtered  through  the  positive 
Puritanical  and  Quaker  filters  ;  is  very  valuable 
as  a  genuine  utterance.  .  .  .  Whittier  is  rather 
a  grand  figure  —  pretty  lean  and  ascetic  —  no 
Greek  —  also  not  composite  and  universal  enough 
(does  n't  wish  to  be,  does  n't  try  to  be)  for  ideal 
Americanism."  l  Lastly,  Whittier's  apparently 
inaccurate  rhymes  are  sometimes  due  to  his  fidel 
ity  to  the  pronunciation  with  which  he  was  fa 
miliar.  More  frequently,  they  are  due  to  the  fact 
that  his  ear  was  often  pleased,  as  is  mine,  by 
an  approximate  rhyme  or  by  a  rough  assonance. 
The  critics  forget  that  in  this  particular  the  pub 
lic  is  largely,  and  has  always  been,  on  his  side. 
Minute  accuracy  in  rhyme  seems  to  me  a  some 
what  pedantic  and  bookish  notion. 

In  form  his  poetic  product  is  characterized  by 
extreme  simplicity,  and  his  skill  is  due  to  native 
talent,  supplemented  by  much  practice  under 
circumstances  that  gave  him  such  interest  in  his 
matter  that  he  was  scarcely  conscious  of  his 
manner.  His  style  was,  moreover,  repeatedly 
modified  by  the  influence  of  other  poets.  From 

1  W.  S.  Kennedy,  Whittier  (American  Reformers),  220. 


294      JOHN    GREENLEAF    WHITTIER 

the  point  of  view  of  form,  he  achieved  his  great 
est  success  in  the  ballad,  especially  where  the 
tale  was  one  long  familiar  to  him,  —  so  familiar, 
indeed,  that  it  was  remembered  and  forgotten 
in  turn  until  it  one  day  took  on  an  almost  per 
fect  shape. 

Of  American  poets  he  appeals,  with  Long 
fellow,  to  the  plain  people,  to  the  major  part  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  land.  Both  were,  in  spite 
of  great  differences  in  education  and  experi 
ence,  singularly  simple-minded  men.  As  a  pro 
fessor  Longfellow  might  have  become  a  pedant. 
As  a  reformer  Whittier  might  have  become  a 
pessimist  or  a  politician.  Both  remained  almost 
childlike.  Life  was  to  both  an  infinitely  simple 
matter.  Longfellow  had  the  greater  breadth  of 
mind;  Whittier,  the  greater  intensity.  Long 
fellow  had  more  richness  and  variety  of  tone ; 
Whittier,  more  sincerity.  Both  were  by  nature 
singers,  and  for  the  nation  at  large  none  of  their 
contemporaries  can  compare  with  either. 

It  might  be  said  that  this  simplicity,  this  lack 
of  intellectual  breadth  and  depth,  stamps  Whit 
tier  as  a  minor  English  poet.  Those  of  us, 
however,  who  hesitate  to  rank  poets  according 
to  a  conventional  system  would  prefer  merely 
to  say  that  he  may  properly  be  classed  with 
poets  of  simple  thought  and  feeling,  rather  than 
with  poets  of  intricate  art  or  intricate  feeling 


POET  295 

or  intricate  thought,  —  different  from  these, 
then,  rather  than  greater  or  less.  His  best  ana 
logue  is  Burns,  of  whose  general  type  he  is. 
His  life  was  more  noble,  his  verse  of  much  the 
same  importance,  I  should  say,  to  Americans  as 
that  of  Burns  to  Scotchmen.  He  was  so  strictly 
a  local  poet  that  it  is  doubtful  of  what  per 
manent  value  he  will  be  to  other  nations  using 
our  common  language,  but  with  us  his  fame  is 
secure. 


APPENDIX 


WHITTIER'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  LETTER 

[Printed  privately,  for  use  in  correspondence.] 

AMESBUBY,  5th  Mo.,  1882. 

DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  am  asked  in  thy  note  of  this 
morning  to  give  some  account  of  my  life.  There  is 
very  little  to  give.  I  can  say  with  Canning's  knife- 
grinder  :  "  Story,  God  bless  you  !  I  have  none  to 
tell  you !  " 

I  was  born  on  the  17th  of  December,  1807,  in  the 
easterly  part  of  Haverhill,  Mass.,  in  the  house  built 
by  my  first  American  ancestor,  two  hundred  years 
ago.  My  father  was  a  farmer,  in  moderate  circum 
stances,  —  a  man  of  good  natural  ability,  and  sound 
judgment.  For  a  great  many  years  he  was  one  of 
the  Selectmen  of  the  town,  and  was  often  called  upon 
to  act  as  arbitrator  in  matters  at  issue  between  neigh 
bors.  My  mother  was  Abigail  Hussey,  of  Rollinsford, 
N.  H.  A  bachelor  uncle  and  a  maiden  aunt,  both  of 
whom  I  remember  with  much  affection,  lived  in  the 
family.  The  farm  was  not  a  very  profitable  one ;  it 
was  burdened  with  debt  and  we  had  no  spare  money  ; 
but  with  strict  economy  we  lived  comfortably  and 
respectably.  .  Both  my  parents  were  members  of  the 
Society  of  Friends.  I  had  a  brother  and  two  sisters* 


298  APPENDIX 

Our  home  was  somewhat  lonely,  half  hidden  in  oak 
woods,  with  no  house  in  sight,  and  we  had  few  com 
panions  of  our  age,  and  few  occasions  of  recreation. 
Our  school  was  only  for  twelve  weeks  in  a  year,  —  in 
the  depth  of  winter,  and  half  a  mile  distant.  At  an 
early  age  I  was  set  at  work  on  the  farm,  and  doing 
errands  for  my  mother,  who,  in  addition  to  her  ordi 
nary  house  duties,  was  busy  in  spinning  and  weaving 
the  linen  and  woollen  cloth  needed  in  the  family.  On 
First-days  father  and  mother,  and  sometimes  one  of 
the  children,  rode  down  to  the  Friends'  Meeting-house 
in  Amesbury,  eight  miles  distant.  I  think  I  rather 
enjoyed  staying  at  home  and  wandering  in  the 
woods,  or  climbing  Job's  hill,  which  rose  abruptly 
from  the  brook  which  rippled  down  at  the  foot  of 
our  garden.  From  the  top  of  the  hill  I  could  see 
the  blue  outline  of  the  Deerfield  mountains  in  New 
Hampshire,  and  the  solitary  peak  of  Agamenticus  on 
the  coast  of  Maine.  A  curving  line  of  morning  mist 
marked  the  course  of  the  Merrimac,  and  Great  Pond, 
or  Kenoza,  stretched  away  from  the  foot  of  the  hill 
towards  the  village  of  Haverhill,  hidden  from  sight  by 
intervening  hills  and  woods,  but  which  sent  to  us  the 
sound  of  its  two  church  bells.  We  had  only  about 
twenty  volumes  of  books,  most  of  them  the  journals 
of  pioneer  ministers  in  our  society.  Our  only  annual 
was  an  almanac.  I  was  early  fond  of  reading,  and 
now  and  then  heard  of  a  book  of  biography  or  travel, 
and  walked  miles  to  borrow  it. 

When  I  was  fourteen  years  old  my  first  school 
master,  Joshua  Coffin,  the  able,  eccentric  historian  of 


JOHN  GEEENLEAF  WHITTIER        299 

Newbury,  brought  with  him  to  our  house  a  volume 
of  Burns's  poems,  from  which  he  read,  greatly  to  my 
delight.  I  begged  him  to  leave  the  book  with  me, 
and  set  myself  at  once  to  the  task  of  mastering  the 
glossary  of  the  Scottish  dialect  at  its  close.  This  was 
about  the  first  poetry  I  had  ever  read  (with  the  excep 
tion  of  that  of  the  Bible,  of  which  I  had  been  a  close 
student),  and  it  had  a  lasting  influence  upon  me.  I 
began  to  make  rhymes  myself,  and  to  imagine  stories 
and  adventures.  In  fact  I  lived  a  sort  of  dual  life,  and 
in  a  world  of  fancy,  as  well  as  in  the  world  of  plain 
matter-of-fact  about  me.  My  father  always  had  a 
weekly  newspaper,  and  when  young  Garrison  started 
his  "  Free  Press  "  at  Newburyport,  he  took  it  in  the 
place  of  the  "  Haverhill  Gazette."  My  sister,  who 
was  two  years  older  than  myself,  sent  one  of  my 
poetical  attempts  to  the  editor.  Some  weeks  after 
wards  the  news-carrier  came  along  on  horseback  and 
threw  the  paper  out  from  his  saddle-bags.  My  uncle 
and  I  were  mending  fences.  I  took  up  the  sheet, 
and  was  surprised  and  overjoyed  to  see  my  lines  in 
the  "  Poet's  Corner."  I  stood  gazing  at  them  in  won 
der,  and  my  uncle  had  to  call  me  several  times  to 
my  work  before  I  could  recover  myself.  Soon  after, 
Garrison  came  to  our  farmhouse,  and  I  was  called 
in  from  hoeing  in  the  corn-field  to  see  him.  He 
encouraged  me,  and  urged  my  father  to  send  me 
to  school.  I  longed  for  education,  but  the  means  to 
procure  it  were  wanting.  Luckily,  the  young  man 
who  worked  for  us  on  the  farm  in  summer,  eked  out 
his  small  income  by  making  ladies'  shoes  and  slippers 


300  APPENDIX 

in  the  winter ;  and  I  learned  enough  of  him  to  earn 
a  sum  sufficient  to  carry  me  through  a  term  of  six 
months  in  the  Haverhill  Academy.  The  next  winter 
I  ventured  upon  another  expedient  for  raising  money, 
and  kept  a  district  school  in  the  adjoining  town  of 
Amesbury,  thereby  enabling  me  to  have  another 
academy  term.  The  next  winter  I  spent  in  Boston, 
writing  for  a  paper.  Returning  in  the  spring,  while 
at  work  on  the  farm,  I  was  surprised  by  an  invita 
tion  to  take  charge  of  the  Hartford  (Ct.)  "  Review," 
in  the  place  of  the  famous  George  D.  Prentice,  who 
had  removed  to  Kentucky.  I  had  sent  him  some 
of  my  school  u  compositions,"  which  he  had  received 
favorably.  I  was  unwilling  to  lose  the  chance  of 
doing  something  more  in  accordance  with  my  taste, 
and,  though  I  felt  my  unfitness  for  the  place,  I  ac 
cepted  it,  and  remained  nearly  two  years,  when  I  was 
called  home  by  the  illness  of  my  father,  who  died 
soon  after.  I  then  took  charge  of  the  farm,  and 
worked  hard  to  "  make  both  ends  meet ; "  and,  aided 
by  my  mother's  and  sister's  thrift  and  economy,  in 
some  measure  succeeded. 

As  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  I  had  been 
educated  to  regard  Slavery  as  a  great  and  danger 
ous  evil,  and  my  sympathies  were  strongly  enlisted 
for  the  oppressed  slaves  by  my  intimate  acquaintance 
with  William  Lloyd  Garrison.  When  the  latter 
started  his  paper  in  Vermont,  in  1828,  I  wrote  him 
a  letter  commending  his  views  upon  Slavery,  Intem 
perance  and  War,  and  assuring  him  that  he  was  des 
tined  to  do  great  things.  In  1833  I  was  a  delegate 


JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER       301 

to  the  first  National  Anti-Slavery  Convention,  at  Phil 
adelphia.  I  was  one  of  the  Secretaries  of  the  Con 
vention  and  signed  its  Declaration.  In  1835  I  was 
in  the  Massachusetts  Legislature.  I  was  mobbed  in 
Concord,  N.  H.,  in  company  with  George  Thompson, 
afterwards  member  of  the  British  Parliament,  and 
narrowly  escaped  from  great  danger.  I  kept  Thomp 
son,  whose  life  was  hunted  for,  concealed  in  our  lonely 
farmhouse  for  two  weeks.  I  was  in  Boston  during 
the  great  mob  in  Washington  Street,  soon  after, 
and  was  threatened  with  personal  violence.  In  1837 
I  was  in  New  York,  in  conjunction  with  Henry  B. 
Stanton  and  Theodore  D.  Weld,  in  the  office  of  the 
American  Anti-Slavery  Society.  The  next  year  I 
took  charge  of  the  u  Pennsylvania  Freeman,"  an 
organ  of  the  Anti-Slavery  Society.  My  office  was 
sacked  and  burned  by  a  mob  soon  after,  but  I  con 
tinued  my  paper  until  my  health  failed,  when  I  re 
turned  to  Massachusetts.  The  farm  in  Haverhill  had, 
in  the  mean  time,  been  sold,  and  my  mother,  aunt, 
and  youngest  sister  had  moved  to  Amesbury,  near 
the  Friends'  Meeting-house,  and  I  took  up  my  resi 
dence  with  them.  All  this  time  I  had  been  actively 
engaged  in  writing  for  the  anti-slavery  cause.  In 
1833  I  printed  at  my  own  expense  an  edition  of  my 
first  pamphlet,  "  Justice  and  Expediency."  With  the 
exception  of  a  few  dollars  from  the  "Democratic 
Review  "  and  u  Buckingham's  Magazine,"  I  received 
nothing  for  my  poems  and  literary  articles.  Indeed, 
my  pronounced  views  on  Slavery  made  my  name  too 
unpopular  for  a  publisher's  uses.  I  edited  in  1844 


302  APPENDIX 

11  The  Middlesex  Standard,"  and  afterwards  became 
associate  editor  of  the  "  National  Era,"  at  Washing 
ton.  I  early  saw  the  necessity  of  separate  political 
action  on  the  part  of  abolitionists  ;  and  was  one  of 
the  founders  of  the  Liberty  party  —  the  germ  of  the 
present  Republican  party. 

In  1857  an  edition  of  my  complete  poems,  up  to 
that  time,  was  published  by  Ticknor  &  Fields.  "  In 
War  Times  "  followed  in  1864,  and  in  1865  "  Snow- 
Bound."  In  1860  I  was  chosen  a  member  of  the 
Electoral  College  of  Massachusetts,  and  also  in  1864. 
I  have  been  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Overseers  of 
Harvard  College,  and  a  Trustee  of  Brown  University. 
But  while  feeling,  and  willing  to  meet  all  the  re 
sponsibilities  of  citizenship,  and  deeply  interested  in 
questions  which  concern  the  welfare  and  honor  of 
the  country,  I  have,  as  a  rule,  declined  overtures  for 
acceptance  of  public  stations.  I  have  always  taken 
an  active  part  in  elections,  but  have  not  been  willing 
to  add  my  own  example  to  the  greed  of  office. 

I  have  been  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends 
by  birthright,  and  by  a  settled  conviction  of  the  truth 
of  its  principles  and  the  importance  of  its  testimonies, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  I  have  a  kind  feeling  towards 
all  who  are  seeking,  in  different  ways  from  mine,  to 
serve  God  and  benefit  their  fellow-men. 

Neither  of  my  sisters  are  living.  My  dear  mother, 
to  whom  I  owe  much  every  way,  died  in  1858.  My 
brother  is  still  living,  in  the  city  of  Boston.  My 
niece,  his  daughter,  who  was  with  me  for  some  years, 
is  now  the  wife  of  S.  T.  Pickard,  Esq.,  of  Portland, 


JOHN    GREENLEAF    WHITTIER       303 

Maine.  Since  she  left  me  I  have  spent  much  of  my 
time  with  esteemed  relatives  at  Oak  Knoll,  Danvers, 
Mass.,  though  I  still  keep  my  homestead  at  Ames- 
bury,  where  I  am  a  voter. 

My  health  was  never  robust ;  I  inherited  from 
both  my  parents  a  sensitive,  nervous  temperament ; 
and  one  of  my  earliest  recollections  is  of  pain  in  the 
head,  from  which  I  have  suffered  all  my  life.  For 
many  years  I  have  not  been  able  to  read  or  write  for 
more  than  half  an  hour  at  a  time ;  often  not  so  long. 
Of  late,  my  hearing  has  been  defective.  But  in  many 
ways  I  have  been  blest  far  beyond  my  deserving ; 
and,  grateful  to  the  Divine  Providence,  I  tranquilly 
await  the  close  of  a  life  which  has  been  longer,  and 
on  the  whole  happier,  than  I  had  reason  to  expect, 
although  far  different  from  that  which  I  dreamed  of 
in  youth.  My  experience  confirms  the  words  of  old 
time,  that  "it  is  not  in  man  who  walketh  to  direct 
his  steps."  Claiming  no  exemption  from  the  sins 
and  follies  of  our  common  humanity,  I  dare  not  com 
plain  of  their  inevitable  penalties.  I  have  had  to 
learn  renunciation  and  submission,  and 

"  Knowing1 

That  kindly  Providence  its  care  is  showing 
In  the  withdrawal  as  in  the  bestowing1, 
Scarcely  I  dare  for  more  or  less  to  pray." 
Thy  friend, 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 


II 

LIST  OF  WHITTIER'S  WRITINGS 

[Separate  editions  of  single  short  poems  are  omitted,  as  well 
as  the  successive  editions,  after  1849,  of  his  Poems.  Full 
bibliographical  material  will  be  found  in  Foley's  American 
Authors  and  in  Bierstadt's  "  Bibliography  of  Whittier  "  in  the 
Book  Buyer  for  1896.J 

Legends  of  New  England.     Hartford,  1831. 

The  Literary  Remains  of  John  G.  C.  Brainard,  with 
a  Sketch  of  his  Life.  Hartford;  1832. 

[Anonymous.]    Moll  Pitcher,  a  Poem.    Boston,  1832. 

Justice  and  Expediency  ;  or  Slavery  considered  with 
a  View  to  its  Rightful  and  Effectual  Remedy,  Abo 
lition.  Haverhill,  1833. 

Mogg  Megone,  a  Poem.     Boston,  1836. 

Views  of  Slavery  and  Emancipation ;  from  Society 
in  America.  By  Harriet  Martineau.  (With  an 
Introduction  by  Whittier.)  New  York,  1837. 

Letters  from  John  Quincy  Adams  to  his  Constituents 
of  the  Twelfth  Congressional  District  in  Massa 
chusetts.  (With  Introductory  Remarks  by  Whit 
tier.)  Boston,  1837. 

Poems  written  during  the  Progress  of  the  Abolition 
Question  in  the  United  States,  between  the  Years 
1830  and  1838.  Boston,  1837. 

[Anonymous.]     Narrative    of   James    Williams,    an 


JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER       305 

American  Slave,  who  was  for  Several  Years  a 
Driver  on  a  Cotton  Plantation  in  Alabama.  New 
York,  1838. 

Poems.     Philadelphia,  1838. 

Moll  Pitcher  and  The  Minstrel  Girl.  Poems.  Re 
vised  Edition.  Philadelphia,  1840. 

Lays  of  my  Home  and  Other  Poems.     Boston,  1843. 

[Anonymous.]  The  Stranger  in  Lowell.  Boston, 
1845. 

Voices  of  Freedom.     Philadelphia,  1846. 

The  Supernaturalism  of  New  England.  By  the  au 
thor  of  The  Stranger  in  Lowell.  New  York,  1847. 

[Anonymous.]  Leaves  from  Margaret  Smith's 
Journal  in  the  Province  of  Massachusetts  Bay. 
1678-79.  Boston,  1849. 

Poems.     Boston,  1849. 

Old  Portraits  and  Modern  Sketches.     Boston,  1850. 

Songs  of  Labor  and  Other  Poems.     Boston,  1850. 

The  Chapel  of  the  Hermits  and  Other  Poems.  Bos 
ton,  1853. 

Literary  Recreations  and  Miscellanies.    Boston,  1854. 

The  Panorama  and  Other  Poems.     Boston,  1856. 

Home  Ballads  and  Poems.     Boston,  1860. 

The  Patience  of  Hope.  By  the  author  of  "  A  Pre 
sent  Heaven  "  (Dora  Greenwell).  (With  an  In 
troduction  by  Whittier.)  Boston,  1862. 

In  War  Time  and  Other  Poems.     Boston,  1864. 

National  Lyrics.     Boston,  1865. 

Snow-Bound.     A  Winter  Idyl.     Boston,  1866. 

The  Tent  on  the  Beach  and  Other  Poems.  Boston, 
1867. 


306  APPENDIX 

Among  the  Hills  and  Other  Poems.     Boston,  1869. 

Ballads  of  New  England.     Boston,  1870. 

Two  Letters  on  the  Present  Aspect  of  the  Society  of 
Friends.  London,  1870, 

Miriam  and  Other  Poems.     Boston,  1871, 

The  Journal  of  John  Woolman.  (With  an  Intro 
duction  by  Whittier.)  Boston,  1871. 

The  Pennsylvania  Pilgrim  and  Other  Poems.  Bos 
ton,  1872. 

[Edited.]  Child  Life  :  a  Collection  of  Poems.  Bos 
ton,  1872. 

[Edited.]     Child  Life  in  Prose.     Boston,  1874. 

Hazel-Blossoms.     Boston,  1875. 

Mabel  Martin.     A  Harvest  Idyl.     Boston,  1876. 

[Edited.]    Songs  of  Three  Centuries.    Boston,  1876. 

Indian  Civilization  :  a  Lecture  by  Stanley  Pumphrey. 
(With  an  Introduction  by  Whittier.)  Philadelphia, 
1877. 

The  Vision  of  Echard  and  Other  Poems.  Boston, 
1878. 

William  Lloyd  Garrison  and  his  Times.  By  Oliver 
Johnson.  (With  an  Introduction  by  Whittier.) 
Boston,  1880. 

The  King's  Missive  and  Other  Poems.  Boston, 
1881. 

Letters  of  Lydia  Maria  Child.  (With  a  Biographical 
Introduction  by  Whittier.)  Boston,  1882. 

The  Bay  of  Seven  Islands  and  Other  Poems.  Bos 
ton,  1883. 

Saint  Gregory's  Guest  and  Recent  Poems.  Boston, 
1886. 


JOHN    GREENLEAF    WHITTIER       307 

Writings  (newly  revised).     Boston,  1888-89. 
At  Sundown.     Boston,  1892. 

Complete  Poetical  Works  (including  all  poems  col 
lected  since  the  author's  death).     Boston,  1895. 


INDEX 


Abolition  movement,  its  relation  to 
other  reforms,  103  ;  causes,  107  ; 
Garrison  and  the  "Liberator,"  11; 
Whittier  joins  the  movement, 
120  ;  founding  of  the  American 
Anti-Slavery  Society,  125 ;  rapid 
growth,  129  ;  divisions  in  the 
ranks.  131  ;  the  new  organization, 
135;  continued  growth,  184 ;  begin 
nings  of  an  anti-slavery  party,  186; 
differences  of  opinion  as  to  polit 
ical  action,  187  ;  triumph  of  the 
cause,  255. 

Adams,  J.Q.,  149,  158,  164. 

American  Anti-Slavery  Society,  125, 
134, 135,  162,  164,  256. 

American  and  Foreign  Anti-Slavery 
Society,  176,  210. 

"  American  and  Foreign  Anti- Slav 
ery  Reporter,"  210. 

"American  Manufacturer,"  54. 

"  Among  the  Hills,"  268. 

"  Amy  Wentworth,"  268. 

"  Annie  and  Rhoda,"  267. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  267,  286. 

"  Barbara  Frietchie,"  262. 
"  Barefoot  Boy,  The,"  235. 
Beecher,  H.  W.,253. 
"  Benedicite,"  234. 
Birney,  J.  G.,  142. 
Bradburn,  George,  204. 
Brainard,  J.  G.  C.,  84. 
Browning,  Robert,  232,  238,  267. 
Bryant,  W.  C.,  1,  2,  4,  43,  93,  225. 
Burns,  Robert,  30,  34. 
Byron,  Lord,  49,  94. 

"  Cassandra  Southwick,"  236.   ' 

Channing,  W.  E.,  131. 

"  Chapel  of  the  Hermits,  The,"  230. 

Chapman,  Mrs.  M.  W.,  132,  199. 

Child,  Mrs.  L.  M.,  115, 122, 132, 199. 

Claflin,  Mrs.  M.  B.,  286. 

Clay,  Henry,  57,  62,  63,  69,  77,  119, 

153,  215. 
Coffin,  Joshua,  30,  128. 


Coleridge,  S.  TM  94. 

Gushing,  Caleb,  74,  120,  148,  202. 

"  Demon  Lover,  The,"  94. 
Dinsmore,  Robert,  31,  246. 
"  Double-headed  Snake  of  Newbury, 
The,"  236. 

"Ein  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott," 

260. 

"  Emancipator,  The,"  142,  210. 
Emerson,  R.  W.,  2,  42,  93,  131,  194, 

213,  225,  226,  247,  252,  285. 
"  Essex  Transcript,  The,"  217. 
Everett,  Edward,  163,  211. 
"Exiles,  The, "236. 
"  Expostulation,"  169. 

Fields,  J.  T.,  251. 
Fields,  Mrs.  Annie,  286- 
"Fire  Ship,  The,"  94. 
"  From  Perugia,"  232. 

"  Gamester,  The,"  80. 

Garrison,  W.  L.,  20,  36-10,  43,  50, 
53.  54, 58,  64,  84, 111-122, 126, 130, 
132-134,  166,  177,  184,  187-190, 
194, 196, 197-199,  210,  214,255, 256. 

"  Garrison  of  Cape  Ann,  The,"  236. 

Gay,  S.  H.,  201. 

"Gazette,"  The  Haverhill,  40,  43, 
45,  47,  59,  60,  62,  75,  83,  119,  125, 
163,  166. 

Gibbons,  Mrs.  A.  H.,  199. 

"  Grace  Greenwood,"  250. 

"  Great  Ipswich  Fright,  The,"  247. 

Grimke,  Angelina  E.,  146,  196. 

Hale,  J.  P.,  206. 

Harriman,  Edwin,  75. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  2,  3,  82,  93, 

131,  225,  248,  252,  285. 
Hayne,  P.  H.,  286. 
Hemans,  Mrs.  F.  D.,  43,  99. 
"  Henchman,  The,"  269. 
"Henry  St.  Clair,"  80. 
Higginson,  T.  W.,  194. 


310 


INDEX 


"  History  of  Haverhill,"  83. 
Holmes,  O.  W.,  3, 17.  42,  225,  249, 

252,  286. 

Hooper,  Lucy,  148. 
"  Hunters  of  Men,"  The,  168. 
Hutchinson,  the,  singers,  260. 

"  Ichabod,"  220. 
Irving,  Washington,  81. 

"  Justice  and  Expediency,"  120. 

Lamson,  Stephen,  217. 

Larcom,  Lucy,  242,  271,  277,  281. 

Law,  Jonathan,  69,  73. 

"  Lays  of  My  Home,"  230. 

"  Legends  of  New  England,"  81,  99. 

"Leaves    from    Margaret    Smith's 

Journal,"  240,  244. 
Leavitt,  Joshua,  210. 
"  Liberator,  The,"  113, 163, 166, 167, 

196-198,  210. 

"  Literary  Recreations  and  Miscel 
lanies,"  240,  247. 
Lloyd,  Elizabeth,  jr.,  147. 
Longfellow,  H.  W.,  3,  4,  17,  42,  93, 

102,  131,  166,  225,  247,  248,  252, 

265,  266,  285. 
Lowell,  J.  R.,  3,  4,  17,  42,  93,  131, 

201,  221,  225,  229,  236,  238,  247, 

252,  262,  272. 

"  Mabel  Martin,"  236. 

"  Maids  of  Attitash,  The,"  268. 

Martineau,  Harriet,  107,  164. 

"  Mary  Garvin,"  236. 

Massachusetts    Abolition    Society, 

135. 
"  Massachusetts  Abolitionist,  The," 

135. 
Massachusetts  Anti-Slavery  Society, 

ICO,  162,  189. 
"Massachusetts    to  Virginia,"   18, 

220,  222. 

"  Maud  Muller,"  237. 
"  Memories,"  234. 
"Middlesex    Standard,   The,"   175, 

213,  240. 

"  Minstrel  Girl,  The,"  98. 
Mirick,  B.  L.,  84. 
"  Mogg  Megone,"  170. 
"  Moll  Pitcher,"  98. 
Moore,  Thomas,  36,  43. 
Mott,  Richard,  181. 
"  My  Playmate,"  269. 

"  Narrative  of  James  Williams,"  165. 
"  National  Anti-Slavery  Standard," 

227,  229. 
"National  Era,"  176,  240,  246,  247. 


"  Nervous  Man,  The,"  79. 

New  England  Anti-Slavery  Society, 

114,  134,  142. 

"New  England  Magazine,"  79,  81. 
"  New  England    Review,"   60,   62, 

115. 

"New  England  Superstitions,"  87. 
"  New  Year,  The,"  169. 

"  Old       Portraits      and     Modern 

Sketches,"  240,  246. 
"  Opium  Eater,  The,"  80. 

"  Panorama,  The,"  230. 
Pennsylvania  Anti-Slavery  Society, 

1G5,  167. 
"  Pennsylvania  Freeman,"  142,  165, 

166,  198,  227. 

"  Pennsylvania  Pilgrim,  The,"  266. 
"  Philanthropist,  The  (Boston),"  50, 

53,  54,  80. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  132,  163, 188,  253. 
Pickard,  S.  T.,  84,  150,  282. 
Poe,  E.  A.,  93,  102. 
"  Poems,"  167. 
"  Poems  of  Adrian,"  47. 
"  Poems  written  during  the  Progress 

of  the  Abolition  Question,"  167. 
Prentice,  G.  D.,  60,  62,  96. 
"  Prophecy  of  Samuel  Sewall,  The," 

236. 

Quincy,  Edmund,  132. 

Rogers,  N.  P.,  139,  199,  246. 
Russ,  Cornelia,  66. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  98,  170. 

"  Sea  Dream,  A,"  269. 

Sewall,  S.  E.,  191. 

Sigourney,  Mrs.  L.  H.,  66,  71,  73,  81, 
91,  100. 

"  Skipper  Ireson's  Ride,"  237. 

"  Slave  Ships,  The,"  168. 

Smith,  Gerrit,  133. 

Snelling,  Joseph,  96. 

"  Snow- Bound,"  270. 

"  Song  of  the  Vermonters,  The," 
18,  49,  100. 

Stanton,  H.  B.,  133,  135,  150. 

"  Star  of  Bethlehem,  The,"  100. 

"  Stranger  hi  Lowell,  The,"  240, 
247. 

Sturge,  Joseph,  174,  191,  206,  211. 

Sumner,  Charles,  186,  192,  194,  206, 
207,  252,  253,  257-259,  285. 

"  Supernaturalism  in  New  Eng 
land,"  240,  242,  247. 

"  Swan  Song  of  Parson  Avery,  The," 
236. 


INDEX 


311 


Tappan,  Lewis,  124. 

Taylor,  Bayard,  248,  253,  285. 

"Telling  the  Bees,"  237. 

Tennyson,  Alfred,  238,  267. 

"Texas,"  191. 

Thayer,  A.  W.,  31,  40,  45-47,  50,  75, 

76. 

Thompson,  George,  130,  139. 
Thoreau,  H.  D.,  15,  42,  194. 
"  Thy  Will  be  Done,"  260. 
"  To  my  Old  Schoolmaster,"  235. 

"  Vaudois  Teacher,  The,"  100,  168. 
"  Views  of  Slavery  and  Emancipa 
tion,"  164. 
"  Voices  of  Freedom,"  230. 

Webster,  Daniel,  10,  220. 

Weld,  T.  D.,  142,  146. 

Whipple,  E.  P.,  285. 

Whitman,  Walt,  262. 

Whittier,  Elizabeth  H.,  9,  262. 

Whittier,  John  G.,  birth,  1;  charac 
teristic  New  England  product,  2  ; 
ancestry,  4 ;  environment  of  his 
boyhood,  11 ;  the  homestead,  12  ; 
farming  life,  16;  principles  ab 
sorbed  in  boyhood,  17;  farm  work, 
25;  early  education,  26 ;  visit  to 
Boston,  27  ;  reading,  28;  introduc 
tion  to  Burns,  30;  influence  of 
Burns,  34  ;  first  verses,  34 ;  slip 
per-making,  40;  attends  Haverhill 
Academy,  41 ;  youthful  verses,  42  ; 
increasing  reputation,  46  ;  "Poems 
of  Adrian,"  47;  Byronic  verses, 
48 ;  first  good  verses,  49  ;  choosing 
a  vocation,  50  ;  entering  the  world, 
53  ;  editor  of  the  "  American  Man 
ufacturer,"  54;  leisure  in  Bos 
ton,  58 ;  returned  to  Haverhill, 
59;  edited  Haverhill  "  Gazette," 
59;  acquaintance  with  George  D. 
Prentice,  60  ;  edits  "New  England 
Review,'7  62  ;  attitude  toward  re 
form,  64;  returned  to  Haverhill, 
65  ;  associations  in  Hartford,  65 ; 
illness  and  despondency,  69;  po 
litical  ambitious,  74 ;  experiments 
in  prose  and  verse,  78;  reflective 
sketches,  79;  moral  tales,  80  ;  sen 
timental  tales  and  tales  of  wonder, 
81 ;  "Legends  of  New  England," 
81;  Mirick's  "History  of  Haver 
hill,"  83  ;  introduction  to  edition 
of  Brainard's  poems,  84 ;  "  New 
England  Superstitions,"  87;  devel 


opment  of  his  verse,  88  ;  his  liter 
ary  ambition  typical,  88  ;  poems 
written  under  the  influence  of 
Byron,  94;  of  Scott  and  Mrs. 
Hemans,  99 ;  natural  leaning  to 
ward  abolitionism,  115 ;  renewed 
relations  with  Garrison,  116  ;  joins 
the  abolition  movement,  120; 
"Justice  and  Expediency,"  122; 
shared  in  the  founding  of  the 
American  Anti-Slavery  Society, 
1 25 ;  his  description  of  the  con 
vention,  126;  the  "  new  organiza 
tion,"  133  ;  devotion  to  the  cause, 
136 ;  member  of  the  Legislature, 
139  ;  aids  George  Thompson,  139  ; 
edited  Haverhill  "Gazette,"  142; 
in  New  York  as  a  secretary  of  the 
American  Anti-Slavery  Society, 
142;  edited  "  Pennsylvania  Free- 

^•inan,"  142;  forced  by  illness  to 
return  home,  143  ;  moved  to  Ames- 
bury,  144  ;  personal  relations  with 
reformers,  144 ;  services  to  the 
cause  as  a  politician,  148 ;  as  a 
journalist,  163;  as  a  poet,  166; 
"  Mogg  Megone,"  170  ;  ill  health, 
174 ;  poverty,  176 ;  other  limita 
tions,  177  ;  his  self-centred  mind, 
179  ;  his  religious  faith,  180  ;  his, 
devotion  to  this  cause,  183;  tem 
porary  desire  for  disunion,  190 ; 
worked  for  the  building  up  of  an 
anti-slavery  party,  191;  differ 
ences  of  opinion  among  the  aboli 
tionists  and  Whittier's  position, 
195 ;  services  for  abolition  through 
the  third  party,  202  ;  services  as  a 
journalist,  210 ;  as  a  poet,  219  ; 
generally  regarded  only  as  an 
abolitionist  poet,  228;  lines  of 
development  of  his  verse,  230; 
his  prose,  239  ;  pressure  of  poverty 
relaxed,  251  ;  his  few  intimate 
friends,  252 ;  decreasing  part  in 
politics,  257  ;  his  war  poems, 
259  ;  late  narrative  poems,  265  ; 
of  reminiscence,  268 ;  religious, 
273  ;  last  years,  280 ;  death,  288  ; 
his  personality,  289  ;  criticism, 
291. 

Willis,  N.  P.,  59,  93,  102. 

Wilson,  Henry,  206. 

Wright,  Elizur,  122,  127,  133,  136, 
142. 

"  Yankee  Girl,  The,"  168. 


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